


A Modest Proposal

by nm_317



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Penetration, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nm_317/pseuds/nm_317
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy has an idea. Is this one of his good ideas, or will everything end in ruin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a vague idea that I thought would make a good long story. Then I thought, "Why not write it for this year's NaNoWriMo, and that'll be the motivation you need to finish it." So, I did. It barely made it.   
> This takes place during filming for series 15 (episodes 2 and 3) and 16 (the America and Middle East trips). I don't know when these were filmed, so I did what I wanted.

“Do you hate these things half as much as Jeremy does?” A well-manicured hand curls around James’ elbow, and he turns his head to look into the striking hazel eyes of Carol, Jeremy’s first post-divorce girlfriend.  
  
They’re at a BBC function, full of the BBC’s best on-air talent – most of them bladdered nearly beyond coherence – and, worst of all, their agents and managers.  
  
“Depends on the alcohol,” James says, holding up his nearly-full wine glass in example.  
  
“And?” Carol eases herself gracefully into the bar stool beside him, and James wonders – not for the first time – what exactly she sees in Jeremy. It isn’t as the other man doesn’t have his charms, but Carol has an innate sophistication that their group of petrolheads are lacking.  
  
“It’s shit,” he answers, essentially proving his point. But, to his surprise, the woman in front of him merely laughs, actually trailing off with a quiet snort. It’s not James’ own goose-honk of a laugh, but maybe she’s not as blandly sophisticated as he’d suspected.  
  
“The quality of alcohol is important at these kinds of functions,” she agrees, and James’ heart drops into his stomach as the hand still on his elbow slides the rest of the way up his arm and down again. “What are you drinking?”  
  
“Er,” he tries to think of a way to politely ask her if she’s aware she’s still lightly caressing his arm, but then she finally lets go, using that arm to wave down a bartender.  
  
“I’ll have your best red,” she says, demurely.  
  
“We only have one red wine,” the surly waiter – clearly not hired for the event based on his people skills – replies.  
  
“Well, I’ll have a glass of that, then.” Carol waits until the waiter is out of earshot before leaning in to James, so close he can smell the strawberry scent of her hair, and whispers, “Charming man.”  
  
James grunts noncommittally, scanning the room for Jeremy, or Richard, or anyone he can use to make his escape. It’s not that this woman isn’t appealing – she is, and James has thought so ever since Jeremy first introduced them – it’s the exact opposite.  
  
“Where, uh, where’s Jez?” he asks once she finally has a wine glass in her hand.  
  
In the middle of a sip, she holds up one finger, asking him to wait a moment. When she brings the glass back down, there’s a frown marring her otherwise beautiful face. “You’re right. This is atrociously bad. Jeremy’s holding court over there,” she waves in the general direction of a group that James can see includes several newsreaders, as well as frequent panel show guests.  
  
James takes a sip, plucking up the courage to make an excuse for wanting to hear what Jeremy has to say, anything to put a little space between him and Jeremy’s girlfriend, but then that hand covers his knee, out of sight underneath the bar, and James nearly chokes on a sip of wine.  
  
“What – what are you doing?” he asks, turning his head quickly, looking in every direction, hoping no one is watching. He teases the other man, but he doesn’t want Jeremy made a laughing stock. Not for this.  
  
And the worst thing, the thing that he hates himself for even now, is his body’s response. It’s been awhile since Sarah, awhile since anyone has touched him…at all, really, and part of his body is definitely standing up and taking notice.  
  
“James,” she protests, hand sliding halfway up his thigh and back, “I know you’re attracted to me.”  
  
Stumbling off the stool, he stammers his excuses. “What – I’m not – I mean, yes, but…. I – I’m sorry. Jeremy’s my friend, and I – I can’t do this. Excuse me.”  
  
He strides quickly for the door, head down, face flushed with embarrassment and anger. If only it wouldn’t cause a scene, cause Jeremy undo pain, he’d have told that woman off for what she’s doing to his friend.  
  
James continues walking, toward the carpark, fingers clenched in tight fists. It isn’t until he’s nearly there that he remembers: He rode here with Jeremy and Carol. He has to wait for Jeremy to leave, ride back  **with them** , or else hail a cab and explain why he disappeared so suddenly.  
  
But he has to tell him. If he tells him now, maybe Carol is the one who’ll end up with a long cab ride home. Maybe she and Jeremy won’t go back to his and….  
  
But is this the place to do it, so close to so many of Jeremy’s friends? So close to his enemies?  
  
If the situation were reversed, James would want to know. Wouldn’t want to take a woman home, and later find out that Jeremy knew, that maybe others had known too.  
  
He pulls his cigarettes out of his pocket and slips one from the packet. He lights it, taking a seat on the edge of the curb.  _I’ll smoke this, figure out what I am going to say, then go inside and tell Jeremy I need to talk to him. Maybe I can get Mindy to distract Carol so she doesn’t cause a disturbance._  
  
He puffs away at his fag for a while, then he hears the creak of the door opening. Inwardly, he crosses his fingers that it’s not Carol, until a large shadow is cast in front of him from the streetlights.  
  
He looks up. “Jez?”  
  
“Thought I might find you out here,” Jeremy answers, taking a seat next to James and holding out his hand for a fag. “Mmm. Thanks,” he murmurs after he takes the first drag.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Richard said he saw you bolt out of the room like your pants were on fire. What’s wrong?”  
  
James stubs out his cigarette on the side of the curb and takes a deep breath. “I was talking to Carol.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“She – oh, fuck, I don’t know how to say this – she was flirting with me.” He ducks his head, too ashamed to look Clarkson in the eye. “I – I wanted to tell her off, but I didn’t want everyone in the room to….”  
  
Jeremy leans closer, bumping their shoulders together until James looks up. “What did she do? Or say?”  
  
James blinks rapidly, then swallows. “She – she was kind of, you know, stroking me. My arm, and, and my thigh. She also said that she knows I find her attractive, which, which I do, but – Jez, I’d never – ”  
  
To his surprise, Jeremy interrupts him with a raucous laugh. “That bitch!” he exclaims, but he doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed. Or surprised.  
  
“Wait. Was she just taking the piss?”  
  
“No.” Jeremy’s laughter ends as abruptly as it had begun. “She wasn’t joking around.”  
  
“Jez? I – I don’t understand.”  
  
Jeremy sighs then glances around. “Take a walk with me? I don’t want to do this so close to so many reporters.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
The hotel is on a side street, and Jeremy steps onto the pavement and begins to walk. “First of all, thank you for telling me. I know she – once I tell you what’s going on, you’ll understand why I’m not mad, but you didn’t know, and…. I’m glad you told me the truth.”  
  
“Of course, Jeremy.”  
  
“Okay, how do I even begin? I haven’t been able to figure it out, yet, that’s what’s got us into this mess.”  
  
“What – Jeremy, are you all right?”  
  
“What?! Yeah, I’m fine, James.” Under the glow of a streetlight, Jeremy stops to lean against the side of a closed shop, muttering about his hip. “Carol and I, we’re not  **together**. Well, we are, but….”  
  
“You’re having sex, but you’re not exclusive.”  
  
Jeremy looks down at the pavement, almost as if he were embarrassed, but James has rarely seen Jeremy embarrassed before. “Right. We’re free to date, or sleep with, whoever we want. We’re friends, and as long as we’re both single, we, you know, have sex, but we’re both free to find someone else. So, she’s not taking the piss, she is definitely attracted to you.”  
  
James cocks his head to the side. “So, she actually was, what, asking me out? Trying to take me to bed? She’s not gone about it the right way.”  
  
Finally, Jeremy lifts his head, stands a little taller. “What would you think about…the three of us?”  
  
He can  **not**  be asking what it sounds like he’s asking.  
  
“The three of us…what, Jeremy?”  
  
“Together. In bed. You, Carol, and, and…me.”  
  
James blinks so quickly that Jeremy becomes nothing of a blur to him for several seconds. “I – what? What the fuck is this, Jeremy?! Do you think it’s funny to make poor, old, lonely James think someone’s interested, when….” He trails off weakly and turns to head back to the hotel.  
  
“Wait, James. It’s not a joke. Wait. I swear.”  
  
James stops but doesn’t turn around, instead just stands, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders slumped. “What is it then?” he asks quietly, unsurely.  
  
“I know I can be a gigantic arse, but what possible kind of joy could I get out of this? Why would I go out of my way to make you think….”  
  
James turns around slowly but doesn’t come any closer. “I don’t know, but it’s easier to believe you would do that, than – ” he bites his tongue before the words, “you want to sleep with me” pass through his lips. He couldn’t stand to see the revulsion he’s sure he’ll see on Jeremy’s face at the very thought.  
  
“Come back here. Please, James. I don’t want to shout. Just let me explain.”  
  
He sighs heavily before walking slowly back to Jeremy. He stands in front of the other man, arms crossed in front of him. “Well, I’m waiting. What is it, if not an infantile trick?”  
  
Jeremy rubs at the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Have you ever been in a threesome, James?”  
  
 _Has Jeremy?!_  James hesitates before answering, always unsure about revealing such personal information about himself, especially to Clarkson, unsure about what the other person is going to think. But, then again, isn’t  **not**  having been part of a threesome the normal thing? “No,” he answers eventually, truthfully. “I haven’t.”  
  
“Haven’t you ever wanted to? I mean, admittedly one with fewer cocks, but….”  
  
 _Oh, Jeremy. If you only knew._  
  
“Isn’t that something every man wants to do at some point in his life?” Jeremy continues, the tone of his voice raising in a bit of excitement, if James is reading the situation correctly.  
  
Now James is the one rubbing at his neck. “I – I’m…maybe. I guess.”  
  
“All right. Well, let me lay everything out straight for you, pun most definitely intended. Carol fancies you, god only knows why. She also clearly fancies me, something which is only ever-so-slightly more understandable.”  
  
“Right,” James replies sarcastically.  
  
“She – she likes the way we – ” Jeremy makes a motion with his hands that James can’t figure out. It might be a rugby call or something, for all James knows. “The way you and I play off each other, was how I think she put it.”  
  
“That’s part of the reason we have a successful telly program, I guess.”  
  
“Yeah, but she wants to be in the middle of it.”  
  
“You – you mean….”  
  
“Whatever you’re thinking, probably that, yes. She had a variety of things she was interested in.” Jeremy shifts awkwardly against the wall, face flushing, as if remembering Carol describing her fantasies. And enjoying the thought.  
  
 _Well, that’s interesting._  
  
“And – and I’m sorry about what happened inside, with her…manhandling you. I was supposed to bring it up with you, before. I guess she thought I had. When she told me she was going to go talk to you at the bar, I thought she meant just butter you up, feel you out…not feel you up!”  
  
James tugs at his hair, caught completely flat-footed. Never in his wildest dreams could he have fathomed any part of this conversation occurring. Not with Jeremy, certainly.  
  
He just isn’t this lucky.  
  
“I – Jez, I don’t know.”  
  
Jeremy holds his hands out in supplication. “No, no, I understand. Take as long to think about it as you want. I – I won’t even mention it again unless you do. If you want, we can just pretend it never happened.”  
  
James sighs, relieved that he at least doesn’t have to make a decision immediately. He wants nothing more than to go home and think about it. Right now, actually, as the very idea has made his pants fit rather snugly again.  
  
He shoves his hands in his pockets and hopes that, with the shadows, maybe Jeremy won’t notice.  
  
“James?”  
  
 _Oh, god, has he noticed already?_  “Hmm?”  
  
“I know.”  
  
 _Fuck._ “What? I – I mean,” he stutters. It takes a moment before he realizes that Jeremy must be talking about something else. Otherwise, he’d have probably just pointed and laughed.  
  
He finally settles on a suspicious-sounding, “Wha-what do you know?”  
  
Jeremy runs agitated fingers through his hair, making the curls stand up. “I know what you – how you feel. About me.”  
  
James wrinkles his brow in mock-confusion. “What do you mean?”  
  
Jeremy raises his own eyebrows in response. “I don’t mind, James. I’m only even mentioning it because I don’t want you to – if this is something you want, I don’t want you to be worried – Oh, fuck, you know what I mean.”  
  
He has but a split second to make a decision: continue feigning ignorance (or even disgust at the very notion), or give in and admit to it.  
  
He stares at this shoe drawing circles on the pavement as he asks, “How long have you known?”  
  
He can hear Jeremy let out a long, slow breath and wonders whether the other man was just as worried about James’ reaction to him knowing as he had been about Jeremy finding out.  
  
“Couple years ago, back when you and I went to Russia, for the piece about Communist cars.”  
  
James lifts his head, frowning, trying to remember if he’d done or said anything untoward. “That night at the pub, the one I didn’t entirely remember the next day…. Did I…?”  
  
“It wasn’t any  **one thing**  that you did. You didn’t drunkenly proposition me or anything.”  
  
“What – then what did I do?”  
  
Jeremy snorts softly. “You were just…affectionate. I wondered if it was just – just something you did when you were  **really**  drunk, but as far as I could tell, it was only me. It was like you had just enough control over yourself to not do anything that might, I don’t know, upset me, but not enough to just, I guess, show that you liked me.  
  
“You sat a little closer, touched my arm when you talked, looked at me when you didn’t think I’d notice. You even hugged me after I made sure you got to your room okay.”  
  
James’ face floods with heat. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I – I didn’t mean – I – ”  
  
“May, would you listen to yourself?” Clarkson barks out an astonished laugh. “Nothing you did was inappropriate. It was unexpected and a little weird, coming from you, but – ” the rest is lost in a quiet mumble.  
  
“Jez?”  
  
“I said I liked it, okay?” Jeremy retorts defensively. “Not – not like that. But – Richard and I so often have to hold back with you, James. And sometimes it is so fucking difficult. But we do it because we don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”  
  
James mumbles, “I know, and I appreciate it.”  
  
“And, that night, I just realized…. Never mind.”  
  
“You can say it. You realized what it would be like if I were more like the two of you.”  
  
“That’s not fair, James. That wasn’t what I was thinking. We wouldn’t want you to be more like us, anyway. We need you like you are to balance us.”  
  
“Normal, then. If I were normal.”  
  
Jeremy’s tone is exasperated when he fights back with, “James!” He scrubs his hand over his face. “I see now that I should have left well enough alone. There’s no way I can explain this without making it seem like I want you to change. Which I don’t, May. And neither does Richard. I promise you.”  
  
“Right. I, uh, I need some time. To think about what – what you proposed. And to get used to the idea that you know.”  
  
“It doesn’t change my opinion of you, other than it made me question your taste. Well, no,” he smirks, “that was already under suspicion.”  
  
James rolls his eyes good-naturedly.  
  
“C’mon, Slow,” Jeremy says, finally, clapping one large hand on his friend’s shoulder and steering him back toward the hotel.  
  
Figuring since his secret is now out, and Jeremy had all but admitted he wished James would touch him more, James slings one arm awkwardly across his friend’s shoulders. His eyes determinedly on the road ahead of them, he can still see Jeremy’s shocked yet pleased expression as he turns to gape at James.  
  
James can’t help but smile.  
  
\--  
  
After Richard finishes his lap of EuroSpeedway Lausitz with Stiggy Ray Cyrus in his BMW deathtrap – disappointingly not dismembered in any way – Jeremy leans closer to James in his florescent orange t-shirt and shorts and asks, “No, seriously, how bloody cold are you in that?”  
  
Through the chattering of his teeth, James replies, “I’m fucking freezing.”  
  
Leaning over the railing, Jeremy shouts, “Andy! Are we done here?”  
  
Wilman looks up from his clipboard. “Yeah. Why, do you have somewhere better to be?”  
  
“Almost always,” Jeremy calls back with a chuckle. “Come on, James, let’s get you out of this rain and somewhere you can maybe stop shivering for five seconds.”  
  
Back at the hotel, everyone takes a long, hot shower and puts on a fresh change of clothes before meeting in the lobby to go out for dinner and then drinks.  
  
Everyone but James, who changes into plaid pajama bottoms and a thick sweatshirt and stays in his room. There’s a knock on his door that interrupts James’s reading, prompting him to call out “Yeah?” in an annoyed-sounding voice.  
  
“It’s me. Why the hell aren’t you downstairs?” It’s Jeremy. Of course it’s Jeremy.  
  
With a loud sigh, James leaves the warm bed and crosses the room.  
  
“You can’t go out like that?!” Jeremy exclaims once James has answered the door.  
  
James mutters, “I hadn’t planned on it. I texted Andy, said I wasn’t coming out tonight. Didn’t he tell you?”  
  
Jeremy stops to think. “I don’t think he’d even made it downstairs yet, either.”  
  
“Well, I’m not going out tonight,” James repeats dully.  
  
Jeremy reaches his hand up toward James before stopping abruptly.  
  
“What – what are you doing?” James asks, leaning away from Jeremy’s hovering hand, a confused frown on his face.  
  
“Was going to see if you had a temperature. Then I remembered I was talking to Mr. I Hate the Touch of Another Human Being.”  
  
“I’m fine, Jez. Just tired. And still cold. I just want to stay in, curled under a blanket, have a cup of tea, and go to bed early.”  
  
“All right. If that’s what you want. Text one of us if you start feeling worse.”  
  
James rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mum.”  
  
\--  
  
James is lying in bed, in the middle of  _Gunning for The Red Baron_  for the eighth time when he hears a soft knock on his door, and a whispered, “James! Are you awake?”  
  
“If I wasn’t, Clarkson,” he mutters on his way to the door, “I would be now.” The door opens with a creak. “What?”  
  
“I’ve procured us a bottle of what I’ve been told is a pretty good wine,” he answers, holding said bottle up for James to see.  
  
Leaning in, James squints so he can read the label. “It’s not. Who told you it was?”  
  
“Um, the man I bought it from. Well, I think that was what he said. His German accent was so thick I could hardly understand him.”  
  
“Well, he was German, you know. It’s hardly fair chastising him for having the accent.”  
  
“Whatever. Can I come in now? Or were you going to sleep soon?” Jeremy lifts his arm so he can look at his watch. “It’s only – it’s 10:00?” he asks in disbelief.  
  
“It’s 9:00,” James sighs. “Andy made you change your watch to local time yesterday, remember?”  
  
“Right. I knew it wasn’t that late, or I wouldn’t be here.”  
  
Finally, James opens the door the rest of the way. “You can come in.” He ducks into the bathroom and unwraps the plastic cups from the sink, then comes out and hands them to Jeremy on the sofa. He grabs the blanket from off the bed then sits down and tucks himself in.  
  
“You’re still cold, May? Are you sure you’re not sick?”  
  
“I’m fine, Clarkson. Just chilly. Now pour the wine.”  
  
It isn’t until half the bottle has disappeared that James plucks up the courage to ask. “So, why’d you come back here to sit in a dingy hotel room and drink shit wine with me? Why didn’t you stay out with the others?”  
  
Jeremy sighs, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face. “Well, first, I was legitimately worried about you. Despite your shivering, you seemed fine all day, but when I stopped by to see why you weren’t in the lobby, you seemed…I don’t know, tired.”  
  
“I  **am**  tired, Jeremy.” He holds up one hand to stall any objections. “I’m away from home, so I’m not sleeping well, and then the challenges, well, they always take a lot out of me. But, this is no different than any other time. I’m fine.”  
  
“I don’t like the sound of that, James.”  
  
“You don’t – what? It is what it is, Jeremy, and there’s not much you or I can do about it. Other than me quitting  _Top Gear_.”  
  
“That’s not an option,” Jeremy declares. Then, he pauses and asks, unsure, “It’s not an option. Is it?”  
  
“Of course it isn’t, you pillock.”  
  
“Okay. Okay, good.”  
  
“So, what’s the real reason you came back here?”  
  
Jeremy sighs, leaning his head back against the back of the sofa. He looks tired, old. But still bloody brilliant, to James’ eyes. “They’re all talking about their wives, or their girlfriends, and I – I just got lonely, I guess. Didn’t want to have to shout at Hammond, tell him how lucky he is when he’s complaining about how Mindy folds his jeans, or Andy when he….” He trails off.  
  
“Hammond’s only complaining to you because he doesn’t dare complain to Mindy about something so trivial.”  
  
“Of course not. Not if he enjoys having testicles.”  
  
James snorts. Then he pours them each another glass of wine. “I think that calls for more alcohol.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
After the wine is finished, they open the mini bar. Jeremy downs the first miniature bottle then grabs a second, sliding onto the floor as he opens it.  
  
“Woah, there, big guy,” James says, tugging at Jeremy’s arm and trying – futilely – to pull him back up.  
  
Leaning against the sofa, Jeremy starts to giggle. “’Big guy.’ Please, don’t ever say that again, James. It’s ridiculous. And, ‘woah, there.’ What are we, in a Western?”  
  
“Okay. How about, ‘Oi! Fatarse!’”  
  
“Mmm. Much better.” Jeremy tilts his head back and grins lopsidedly at James.  
  
 _How could I possibly get offered the chance to be that close to Jeremy, and say I have to think about it? What kind of colossal idiot am I?”_  
  
“Yes,” he blurts out, suddenly.  
  
“Yes, what?” Jeremy asks, pushing himself up straighter.  
  
“Yes…yes, that is a better phrase,” he says, thinking quickly, hoping Jeremy, in his drunken state, doesn’t notice the pink on his face. “Hammond’s the only one of us who should ever say any of those things.”  
  
“While he’s draping himself in the American flag, Stetson hat pulled down over his eyes, with his cowboy boots on and standing in a cow turd, a Bud Light in his hand.”  
  
James rolls his eyes and reaches toward the mini bar again.  
  
Even if he hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, he decides eventually, now – while he’s drunk, while they’re  **both**  drunk – is probably the easiest time to bring it up.  
  
“Clarkson?”  
  
“Um, yes, May?”  
  
 _Wait._  “How much of this conversation are you going to remember in the morning?”  
  
“You aren’t planning on saying something embarrassing, are you?”  
  
“Not – well, yes, strictly speaking – but it’s important that you don’t forget it.”  
  
Jeremy turns and folds his arms over the sofa cushion and looks up at James. “I won’t. ‘M not that drunk.”  
  
“All right. I – I’ve thought about what you asked me a couple weeks ago.”  
  
Jeremy blinks a few times, then asks, “And?”  
  
“And – and my answer is yes.”  
  
Two bushy eyebrows raise in surprise. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“All right. Let me think. Er, we’ve got filming in two weeks. Does next weekend work for you? If it’s okay with Carol?”  
  
James nods nervously.  
  
“Excellent. At mine? Then if either one of you wants to leave, at any time, you can do, no questions asked.”  
  
“Sounds,” James’ voice cracks, so he starts again. “Sounds good.”  
  
With a grunt, Jeremy shoves himself up off the floor. “Then with that settled, I think I’ll be heading to bed. Before this has a chance to get awkward.” He briefly rests his hand on top of James’ head and murmurs, “Night, May.”  
  
Then five steps later, he lets out a shouted, “Fuck!” as he trips over his own shoes.  
  
“You moron,” James mutters fondly.


	2. Chapter 2

James arrives at Jeremy’s flat exactly seven minutes early. Carol’s car is already in the underground carpark. He spends three minutes smoking a fag and pacing back and forth behind his Panda, then another two wiping sweaty hands on his jeans.  
  
The Jeremy that answers the door makes him want to reach out and touch. He’s wearing dark trousers and a light blue long-sleeved button down that, and James is certain this is unintentional, matches his eyes. The top three buttons are undone, letting some of that salt-and-pepper chest hair peek through. James hates how much that threatens to undo him already, and now he really starts to get nervous. Thank god Jeremy  **knows** , so he doesn’t have to worry about letting the cat out of the bag, but he still has to worry about…taking what he wants. Or, even worse, offering himself. He’d never live it down.  
  
“Hello,” he says, finally.  
  
Jeremy snorts with gentle laughter at the expected greeting. “Carol!” he hollers. “James is here.”  
  
Once Jeremy has opened the door, James steps inside and removes his shoes and jacket. With unexpected graciousness, Jeremy takes his coat, just as Carol hands him a glass of wine.  
  
“I hope this will better meet your expectations,” she says, with a grin.  
  
He swirls it in the glass, taking note of its aroma. “It certainly smells better.” After a sip, “Tastes better, too. Thank you.”  
  
“Shall we head to the dining room?” Jeremy asks. “I think dinner is about done.”  
  
“You cooked?” James asks as he and Carol stand back while Jeremy takes dinner out of the oven.  
  
“I did. I made chicken.”  
  
James looks around, searching for anything he can do to help, anything to stop him standing here like a lump on a log. But there’s nothing to be done. The table is set, the wine is poured.  
  
“James,” Carol interrupts his thoughts, “I do want to apologize for the other evening.”  
  
“No, it’s no problem. Jeremy explained that it was his fault your signals got crossed.”  
  
She rests one hand lightly on his arm. Even though he knows she and Jeremy are not exclusive, even though  **this is what he’s here for** , he still feels a moment of guilt for the way it makes him feel.  
  
“Still, I must have come on strongly.”  
  
The blush that crosses over his face forces James to duck his head. Peering up through his eyelashes, he answers, “I – uh, I like that, actually.”  
  
The hand on his arm slides further up until it rests against the side of his neck. James lifts his head and it rewarded by Carol’s beautiful smile. “Oh, I think we will have fun with you.”  
  
Jeremy appears behind Carol, body pressed up against her, one arm draped over her shoulder and across her chest. “Please stop accosting James, m’dear. We haven’t eaten.”  
  
“May I just try one thing?” she asks coyly. With her eyes on James’ and her fingers trailing across the back of Jeremy’s hand, she includes both men in her question.  
  
Jeremy grumbles his agreement in faux annoyance, while James just nods silently. Then, with Jeremy still pressed against her back, Carol steps closer until she’s merely a hair’s breadth away from James. She runs her fingers through the hair above his ear, her thumb smoothing at his temple. With a gentle pressure on his head, she makes her desire known, and James leans closer to meet her halfway.  
  
It’s weird kissing someone other than Sarah after all this time, but he likes it. Especially when he steps closer, feels her breasts pressing against his chest, and brings a hand up to close over her shoulder. There’s a solidness he can feel there, in the way his weight doesn’t push her back at all, at the warmth he can feel against the backs of his fingers.  
  
Jeremy.  
  
Carol is the one who parts her lips to deepen the kiss, but James follows. He can feel movement, and he opens his eyes to see Jeremy pressing kisses down Carol’s long neck.  
  
James closes his eyes again, worried he could almost come just from the sight.  **Fuck.**  
  
He breaks it off gently, breathing hard, and opens his eyes to find two sets of eyes – one blue and one hazel – and two gorgeous smiles – one nearly perfect and one, well, beautiful in its own way.  
  
Then Jeremy breaks the silence. “I didn’t spend hours cooking for nothing, you two.”  
  
\--  
  
Dinner is comfortable, and surprisingly tasty, and the wine is good, but no one drinks more than is wise.  
  
When they’re done, Carol is the one who stands first, holding out a hand to each man. James can’t help but glance at Jeremy, but the other man is looking right back at him.  
  
“You ready for this?” Jeremy asks after blowing out a long stream of air between his lips.  
  
“I guess so.”  
  
They head down the hallway: Carol, then Jeremy, then James, presumably the only one who’s never seen the inside of Jeremy’s bedroom.  
  
“Just remember,” Jeremy’s loud voice booms as they cross the threshold, “James is Captain Sense of Direction. You may actually have to draw him a map at some point.”  
  
 _Yes, thank you, Clarkson. No need to make me more nervous than I already am._  
  
Carol pushes gently at Jeremy’s chest. “James is a musician, Jez. I have no doubt he has very talented fingers.”  
  
As James sees it, he has two choices: continue to be embarrassed and nervous, or make a move.  
  
Of its own volition, his body apparently makes a decision, suddenly stepping him across the room and resting his hand between Carol’s shoulder blades. He wants to be smooth and suave – or as close as he ever gets to either of those things, which is admittedly not very – but he also barely knows this woman, doesn’t want to make assumptions no matter how keen she’s seemed.  
  
So, he does the polite thing. He asks.  
  
“Carol, how would you feel about Jeremy and me undressing you?”  
  
In answer, she takes the half-step backward necessary to press her back against James’ front, until James’ chin rests near her ear, bringing her right arm behind her to thread her fingers in the back of James’ hair. “I’d love it,” she responds.  
  
Jeremy quirks an eyebrow at James and reaches for her trousers. James sweeps her hair to the side, skimming his lips against the back of her neck as his hands slip under her jumper.  
  
Jeremy drops to his knees in front of her as he helps slide her trousers and knickers and socks down and off. He kisses the skin below her belly button, from hip to hip, drawing a soft, gasped “Jeremy,” and then a chuckle out of her.  
  
“Carol here is ticklish,” Jeremy confides with a grin, glancing up at James over Carol’s shoulder. “Just wanted to let you know.”  
  
“And Jeremy here is an arsehole,” Carol rebuts.  
  
“That one I knew, actually,” James answers wryly, finally sliding her shirt up over her head and off, hands skimming her sides. The bra clasp is but the work of seconds, then she’s helping by sliding that off as well.  
  
Now he’s in somewhat of a quandary. He’s pressed up against a naked woman, his cock hardening already in his trousers. He can continue touching, or he can step back and look at what he and Jeremy have unveiled and maybe even become naked himself.  
  
Okay, not really much of a quandary when it’s put like that.  
  
He steps around her, next to a still-kneeling Jeremy, and begins pressing kisses to her bare collarbone. “Mmm, James, kiss me,” she whispers.  
  
He obliges, this time taking control, deepening the kiss almost immediately. His fingers delicately trace Carol’s sides, across her stomach, then the undersides of her breasts.  
  
The gasp she lets out into his mouth stokes his ego, but then he realizes: Jeremy. He pulls back and glances down. All he can see is a mop of unruly graying hair and a glistening bald spot as Jeremy makes good use of his mouth for once.  
  
He wants to reach out, run his fingers first through Jeremy’s curls, then through Carol’s. Instead, he ducks his head, laving the skin of Carol’s right breast, finally taking a nipple into his mouth.  
  
“Fuck,” she cries, softly. “Boys,” she emits in a kind of chuckled-groan, “I’m too old to do this standing up.”  
  
James glances down again to see her fingers tugging at Jeremy’s hair, pulling him away from her. Jeremy catches him looking, grins happily in response, lips wet with her juices.  
  
Figuring it’s the only way to touch Jeremy safely, he offers the other man a hand and helps haul him up from the floor. Jeremy pulls Carol into his arms and whispers in her ear.  
  
“Mmm,” she murmurs. Then, with a hand in the middle of James’ chest, she orders, “Lie down, James.”  
  
He does so, pulling off his jumper and socks before lying back against Jeremy’s expensive mattress covered in an elegant duvet and fluffy pillows, so unlike his simple, yet comfortable, bed at home. Carol climbs up onto the bed, straddling his knees then crawling her way up his body. One hand cups his groin as she leans down and kisses him. His eyes fall shut as he begins to enjoy the sensations.  
  
“Mmph,” he murmurs against her lips, as one squeeze of her hand proves especially pleasant.  
  
He can feel his t-shirt being tugged from his jeans and then warm, confident, feminine fingers against his stomach. Teeth nibble gently at the skin along his collar, as he begins to trail his fingers along the smooth, flawless skin of Carol’s back.  
  
He’s wondering idly where Jeremy is when he feels the mattress dip beneath the additional weight.  
  
He eyes open, unbidden, to find Jeremy kneeling on the bed in all his naked glory: long, thick cock standing at attention. “Fuck,” he gasps, making an effort to snap his eyes toward Carol in an attempt to give her the credit for his bliss.  
  
“Sit up?” she requests. James does so and allows her to tug his t-shirt over his head. His hands go immediately to smooth down his hair, but she takes care of it for him. “Love your hair,” she murmurs.  
  
Jeremy growls in annoyance, and she turns that brilliant smile toward him. “I happen to find your bald spot sexy as well.”  
  
Jeremy starts to mumble something that sounds suspiciously like denial of having lost any hair, but James is distracted when Carol undoes his jeans and tugs them and his pants down his legs and off.  
  
His first inclination is to cover himself, especially with Jeremy just behind Carol, kissing across her shoulder blades, large hands cupping her breasts from behind. But almost no time passes before long, slim, soft fingers are wrapped firmly around his cock.  
  
“Wait,” Jeremy says, before Carol has had a chance to do much more than a couple wonderful strokes. “James, can you sit up against the headboard?”  
  
“Ohh,” Carol says, “Good idea. Comfortable?” she murmurs once James is settled.  
  
He barely has enough time to say, “yeah” before Carol is kneeling over his lap. He curves his hands around her hips to hold her in place.  
  
“Now where was I?” she murmurs before returning her hand to James’ cock.  
  
James isn’t sure exactly what it is - the angle; the lack of dual sensation; different, more feminine fingers - that makes getting a handjob from a woman so much better than masturbating. It’s definitely something, though.  
  
Oh, and the kissing. Yes, that helps as well, he remembers as his lips are taken again. Carol bolsters herself with a hand on James’s shoulder.  
  
He cups a breast with one hand, thumbing at a nipple; the other trails down her body in search of her clit.  
  
He finds it, but that isn’t all he finds, as his fingers brush against other, larger ones. “S-Sorry, Jez,” he says, embarrassed, as he pulls his fingers away.  
  
Jeremy snorts against the back of Carol’s shoulder. “Quite all right.”  
  
“The two of you – oh, fuck, Jeremy – need to stop being so polite,” Carol pants. “It’s the two of you together I’m most interested in.”  
  
“Yes, darling,” Jeremy answers sarcastically. “James, you carry on with what you were doing, and I’ll – ”  
  
He can tell what Jeremy is about to do even though he can’t see, and when Jeremy slips a finger – or two – inside her, her eyes widen and she shifts to give him better access. “Yes,” she hisses, her grip tightening on James’ cock.  
  
“James,” Jeremy says quietly.  
  
“Hmm?” He looks up and into Jeremy’s eyes over Carol’s shoulder and forgets to feel awkward, even after she does something sensational with her fingers that makes James’ eyelashes flutter and a quiet obscenity slip out of his mouth.  
  
“How fast do you think we can make her come?”  
  
James grins back. “I don’t have our stopwatch with me.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Jeremy nevertheless begins, “Ready…go.”  
  
From the way Carol rocks against him, James soon figures out Jeremy’s rhythm and begins to counter it. She shudders and collapses against James’ chest, bringing Jeremy closer to James to compensate. Then James can feel roughness against his balls, and it takes him a moment to realize what it is: the backs of Jeremy’s knuckles rubbing against him on each pass inside Carol.  
  
“Fuck,” James pants, glancing up, expecting Jeremy to twig to what’s happening and be horrified and snatch his hand away. But the other man merely smiles knowingly and continues sliding his fingers in and out.  
  
James glances away, looking down at the quivering body resting against him, but he can still feel Jeremy’s eyes on him. He turns his gaze back to Jeremy, and it’s a good job Carol’s too distracted to touch him much anymore, as the intensity in the other man’s eyes is nearly making him come as it is.  
  
“James, oh god, Jeremy, I – I can’t,” she gasps. “So close.”  
  
Then, with his eyes still on James, Jeremy wraps his arm around her, sliding his hand between her and James to tweak at her nipple. James bites his bottom lip to keep in the whimper trying to force its way out. With his free hand, he duplicates what Jeremy’s doing on Carol’s other breast, his fingers brushing against the warm, hairy skin of Jeremy’s arm.  
  
His hand getting a bit cramped, James changes his angle slightly, and then Carol’s chanting, “Oh, oh, fuck, yes. Just a little – ” and then she’s shaking in his arms and letting out a keening cry.  
  
“That’s my girl,” Jeremy murmurs, finally looking away from James and burying his face in the curve of her neck.  
  
“I’m dead,” she mumbles quietly, her body still trembling as James holds her, caressing her damp hair.  
  
“Well, if you’re dead, I guess you aren’t interested in what else James and I can do for you?” he teases, glancing up at James for assent. James can’t help but nod enthusiastically, which makes Jeremy chuckle.  
  
“Wait, did I say dead?” she asks, tiredly lifting her head and winking at James. “I meant fucking ravished and looking for more.”  
  
“That’s right,” Jeremy growls, as Carol and James roll their eyes at each other.  
  
“What – um, what did you – did you have something in mind?” James stutters, his awkwardness returning now that there are decisions to be made.  
  
Carol turns her head, and she and Jeremy share a look. James isn’t sure what transpires exactly, but eventually Carol sighs in exasperation and turns back toward James. “James, have you ever,” she rocks her head back and forth as if considering and then rejecting euphemisms, before finally settling on, “ever had anal sex? See, I have, but Jeremy here hasn’t, and if you – I’d rather – ”  
  
“Yes,” he interrupts. “I have.”  
  
“And, would you be willing…? I - I want to be between you both.”  
  
“Wait,” Jeremy interrupts before James can answer. “You’re telling me that you, James “Repressed” May, have had anal sex?”  
  
James cocks an eyebrow at his friend. “Jeremy. I know that there is no chance that you believe – that you have ever really believed – that I am 100% straight. Also,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve had adventurous girlfriends.” Without waiting for a response, he turns his attention to Carol. “I would be honored.”  
  
Jeremy huffs a laugh. “Only you would respond to an offer of bum sex with ‘I’d be honored,’ Slow.”  
  
“And maybe that’s why he’s had the opportunity,” Carol retorts.  
  
“I like her,” James says with a smile.  
  
“It’s not that I haven’t had the opportunity,” Jeremy mumbles. “I’ve just never - Whatever. Are we doing this or not?”  
  
It’s a few awkward minutes before they sort themselves out, ending up on their sides, facing each other, with Carol between them.  
  
As he uses his fingers to carefully prepare her, James tries not to stare at Carol’s hand pumping gently at Jeremy’s cock, drawing it to full hardness. It’s been nearly half a lifetime since he’s been with another man, but he can still imagine how that cock would feel inside him, hard and thick and…. He buries his face between Carol’s shoulder blades to eliminate the temptation and give the burning in his face time to recede.  
  
“One more, James,” Carol whispers. “I’m ready.”  
  
As James slides a third lubed finger inside, he can hear Jeremy ask, almost as if he doesn’t want to be overheard, “Doesn’t that hurt?”  
  
“Not if the person you’re with cares about making sure it doesn’t. And James is doing splendidly.”  
  
“Still looks like it hurts,” he mumbles. He sounds legitimately scared on her behalf. James wants to say something, but he’s pretty sure Carol’s the only one in this instance who can assure him that everything is okay.  
  
“Quit whinging. All right, James.”  
  
He smears lube over his condom-covered cock then slides closer. “Can you – ” With a hand at the back of her thigh, he helps lift her leg until it’s resting on top of Clarkson’s. “That all right?” he asks, glancing at Jeremy to include him as well.  
  
Both of them nod, and then he’s sliding carefully inside. She gasps, and James freezes, muttering “Sorry.” He glances up to see Jeremy staring at him, mouth in a tight line until Carol replies, “No, it’s good. It’s good.” She rakes her fingers through Jeremy’s chest hair, reassuring him, whispering, “I’m fine, Jez.”  
  
He pulls back then slides forward again, inching his way until he’s all the way inside.  
  
“Just – just give me a minute,” Carol breathes, fingers gripping James’ thigh.  
  
James gives Jeremy a look that asks for confirmation that she really is all right, and Jeremy responds with a nod.  
  
“You – you tell me when you’re ready for me, all right?” Jeremy asks, cupping her face in his hand.  
  
“Yeah. Soon. Move, James. Slowly, but…. Please. I want to feel you.”  
  
The position is awkward, but allows for a smooth, slow glide. It might take him too long to get off this way, but Carol seems to be liking it, if the white marks her fingers are making on his thigh are any indication.  
  
“Jez. Now,” she says after a minute.  
  
To make it easier, James stops moving, hand sliding along her thigh, her hip and up to the curve of her breast. Jeremy had watched – with a healthy does of trepidation – what he had done, so he finds it only fair to do the same.  
  
He’s much more mindful than James would have guessed, going slowly, checking in carefully with his eyes until he’s deep inside.  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“Incredibly.”  
  
“Ooh, James, she can still say multiple-syllable words.”  
  
“We should do something about that, then, Jezza.”  
  
Jeremy begins moving and then James does, and it isn’t for a few thrusts that he realizes what he’s feeling. “Fuck!” he exclaims quietly.  
  
“James, is – is that  **you**  I can feel?”  
  
James nods quickly, eyes shut in pleasure.  
  
“Holy fuck,” Jeremy murmurs.  
  
“Mmm,” Carol moans in agreement.  
  
“That’s – oh my god.”  
  
“Fuck,” James hisses. Then, if he’d thought feeling Jeremy’s cock through a wall of skin was incredible, one of them shifts slightly, and their cocks brush together. And then again. “Oh, god,” James moans. He waits for Jeremy to say something to make them all stop what they’re doing, but the other man just curses and gasps in time to their thrusts, the three of them rocking together in an unspoken, somewhat graceless, rhythm. If it didn’t feel so fantastic, it’d be too hilariously awkward to continue.  
  
“Kiss me, Jez,” Carol whispers, and Jeremy obliges. Now, James can watch Jeremy privately, unabashedly. He kisses almost nothing like James had imagined he would, and he’s imagined it more times than he cares to admit. He manages to be aggressive yet gentle, allowing Carol to lead when she wants, and then dominate when it’s his turn. It’s almost painful that he’ll never experience that, but he’ll always have this night to remember, and relive, and spend late nights pleasuring himself to.  
  
The hip he’s lying on begins to ache, so he shifts his other foot from its place bracing him against the bed, and then his hand, searching for the purchase necessary to allow him a slightly different position, another angle. Instead of the soft, blemish-free skin he’s expecting, he overshoots, his hand landing instead on Jeremy’s hip. He pulls it back like it’s on fire, and struggles to apologize.  
  
His apology is interrupted by Jeremy’s hand covering his, replacing it back on his hip, Jeremy’s eyes open and watching him. To his eternal surprise, Jeremy doesn’t let go, instead intertwining his fingers with James’.  
  
With a squeeze of James’ hand, Jeremy breaks off eye contact, pressing a kiss to Carol’s forehead. “What do you need?” he asks her quietly.  
  
“Nothing. This is perfect. So fucking perfect.”  
  
James can hardly disagree. He finds the racing pulse point on Carol’s neck and begins planting kisses on her heated skin. When she gasps his name, he carefully grazes her skin with his teeth.  
  
“Oh, teeth. She likes that,” Jeremy offers.  
  
“Don’t wanna mark her,” James groans. “She’s much too beautiful.”  
  
“She really doesn’t mind,” Carol argues.  
  
Moving further down where it’s more easily covered by her clothing, James sucks at her collarbone, biting down gently.  
  
“Yes,” she breathes. She reaches behind them, clamping her hand on James’ arse cheek, and tugging him closer. “Harder. Harder, James.”  
  
He’s not sure whether she’s talking about his teeth or his hips, but he thrusts a little harder.  
  
“Mmm,” she moans, attempting to bring her knee up closer to her chest, arching her back.  
  
Both James and Jeremy are panting now, the amount of exertion necessary for sex in this position much greater than it would seem. James can feel the beginnings of an ache in his back, and he’s getting a cramp in the leg he’s lying on. He’s tempted to say something, but it feels so fucking wonderful all the same, and he wants to be here, with Jeremy just layers of skin away from him, when Carol comes.  
  
“You’re so close, Jeremy,” Carol gasps. “I can tell.”  
  
The other man groans, face flushed, eyes drifting shut. “And damn if I don’t take you with me.”  
  
“Promises, promises. I’ve heard that before,” she taunts, and Jeremy’s eyes open.  
  
“Sorry, James, I need this hand to prove someone wrong.” He lets go of James and then his hand disappears between himself and Carol.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” James and Carol moan nearly in unison, as her increased pleasures causes an immediate clenching around his cock.  
  
“I am so good,” Jeremy crows. Carol snorts in response, her head falling forward against Jeremy, pressing her face against the curve of his neck. It turns out she’s both an avid giver and receiver of teeth marks as James watches her bite down where Jeremy’s neck meets his shoulder. “Fuck, fuck,” Jeremy mutters, and James can feel the way his hips pick up speed, become erratic. “Almost there.”  
  
As James watches one of his best mates, the man he’s fantasized about for years, nearing his climax, it’s all he can do to avoid reaching out, touching that sweat-dappled chest or cupping that arse in one hand.  
  
Instead he just watches, files every sight and sound and smell away, the way Jeremy’s head snaps back, his bottom lip painful looking between his teeth, the long, low groan he emits. As he finishes with a few short, irregular thrusts, Carol grips hard at James’ leg, murmuring “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”  
  
So James doesn’t, continuing the slow, steady movement of his hips, despite his desire, the tingling in the base of his spine shouting at him to urge her up onto her knees and finish both of them off.  
  
Jeremy pulls out, and James can tell Carol feels the loss as intensely as he does. Panting great big heaving breaths of air, he buries his face against Carol’s chest, throwing an arm over both of them. As James moves, Jeremy’s fingers brush against the top of his arse. “Jezza,” he can’t help but whimper, a wave of embarrassment and shame washing immediately over him.  
  
Jeremy merely lifts his head tiredly and grins. Carol’s hands go to his head, weaving her fingers through strands of curly hair. “You – fuck, James – you know what you could do, Jeremy? To make yourself useful?”  
  
“I do know,” Jeremy murmurs, his nose brushing against Carol’s. “But why don’t you tell me anyway?”  
  
Carol has no timidity – though, James guesses, they probably wouldn’t be here if she did – telling Jeremy he can “use your mouth on me, damnit.”  
  
Jeremy wastes no time disposing of his used condom then sliding down the bed and burying his face between her legs, Carol’s thigh wrapped around his chest. His hand finds James’ thigh for support, gripping it lightly with his strong hand.  
  
Despite all odds, everything that’s happened thus far seems to indicate that Jeremy won’t be at all upset with his next move, but James’ heart still pounds in his chest as he palms the back of Jeremy’s head, threading his fingers through the wiry hair.  
  
Jeremy hums in agreement and then shocks James by folding his own hand over the top of James’. He pushes down once, and then twice, until James finally gets it. Jeremy wants the feeling that James is in control, that he’s demanding Jeremy perform this act.  
  
It’s unexpected, but not unwelcome. He’s played various roles in his sexual relationships – top, bottom, leader, follower – sometimes multiple in the span of one orgasm. And this is Jeremy; of course he won’t say no.  
  
So, he applies a bit of pressure, causes Jeremy to make that humming noise again and Carol to gasp in answer. His own hips slow, eventually coming to a stop as he just watches the absolute delight Jeremy takes in what he’s doing now. He never would have suspected.  
  
He gets his fingers involved, pressing two inside as his lips and tongue strike up a rhythm on her clitoris. Carol’s hand joins James’, guides Jeremy’s head just a touch higher, until she’s crying out, her body shaking, her insides clamping down hard on James’ cock.  
  
“Fuck, fuck,” James mutters, somehow edging just to the precipice of orgasm but not tumbling into it.  
  
Her orgasm more powerful than before, it seems hours before the shaking subsides and she lies, panting, sandwiched between then.  
  
“James – James hasn’t come,” she pants.  
  
“M’all right,” he murmurs. “I can wait.”  
  
“Jeremy?” she asks, quietly, running her hands through his chest hair.  
  
James knows he’s missing something as he watches Jeremy take two deep breathes then finally smile hesitantly and nod, but never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined just what it was.  
  
“James?” he asks. “How’d you like a blow job to help finish you off?”  
  
James huffs a confused laugh. “Course I would.” He grasps his cock around the top of the condom, preparing to pull out. “If Carol wants to, of course.”  
  
Jeremy clears his throat. “I meant from me.”  
  
James’ eyes squeeze shut as his hand tightens around the base just in time to keep him from coming. “Fuck you, Clarkson,” he mutters. “Not funny.”  
  
“I said a blow job, not anything about you fucking me. And, I’m not kidding, James.”  
  
To quell his excitement and fear, James murmurs faintly to Carol, “Is it all right if I pull out now?”  
  
“Of course it is,” she answers, still sounding sated, though he can feel her tense up when he finally does.  
  
Jeremy holds out the rubbish bin and James tosses his condom into it before asking, “Why?”  
  
James notices the way Jeremy glances briefly at Carol before muttering, “Just want to see what it’s like.”  
  
He should say no, he really should. He’s better than this, accepting a blowjob from a “curious” Jeremy. But, he’s here now, isn’t he? He didn’t say no to just being close to Jeremy like this; how can he say no to more?  
  
“If you’re sure,” James says finally. “How – er – ” he’s suddenly become aware of his nudity, and his erection, his hand going automatically to it, stroking it. “How do you want me? I – I mean - ”  
  
“I know what you mean,” Jeremy answers dryly. “On your back?”  
  
Once James is comfortable, Carol slides over him and tucks herself into his side. “Mind if I lie here? Our Jeremy may prove to need a little guidance, and I may be able to help.”  
  
James nods silently, eyes on Jeremy. The other man looks nervous, but not as if he’s wishing he’d never said anything, which is frankly what James had feared. He shuffles closer on his knees. As he’s hovering over James, he taps gently on the inside of James’ knees, and James spreads them, a blush of both self-consciousness and ardor beginning to creep along his face and neck and chest.  
  
“I don’t think I’ll last long,” he volunteers, wanting to both assure Jeremy that this may be easier than he’s expecting and offer a preemptive excuse for himself.  
  
“I like your confidence in me,” Jeremy teases. Then he doubles over, elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of James’ hips, and presses his lips against James’ lower belly.  
  
“Fuck,” he moans, the sight of Jeremy’s head anywhere near his gentleman’s sausage turning him on even more. Jeremy’s fingers caress James’ sides as he mouth moves inwards, closer and closer to its final destination.  
  
It stops, though, and James’ stomach drops, until he feels Jeremy’s enormous hand enfold his erection. Carol leans in, murmurs something James can’t hear. Then James can see Jeremy’s tongue snake out and flatten itself against the underside of his cock.  
  
“Jesus. Yes.” As Jeremy’s hand begins to stroke, his tongue explores, running along his length, twirling around the head. Then, finally, that loud mouth closes itself over the end. James grasps at the covers, twisting them in his hands, as he uses all his power not to thrust. “Jez, Jez, Jez,” he pants. It’s embarrassing, but it seems to be the only word he can say.  
  
It has the desired effect, though, as James watches the last hint of trepidation leave Jeremy’s eyes, leaving only confidence and joy in its stead.  
  
Jeremy makes no attempt at deep throating, keeping his movements shallow and safe, but augmenting them with the experienced slide of his hand. Finally, it’s more than James can handle, and he has to reach out, burying his fingers in Jeremy’s damp hair.  
  
“Mmm,” he whimpers, toes curling, “Not gonna last. Fuck.”  
  
Then he feels another hand, this one smaller and softer with long nails, cup his testicle, and he’s all but gone.  
  
“God, yes – fuck – I can’t, I’m.” And then he’s coming, after being hard for what seemed like hours, fingers tightening in Jeremy’s hair, both of his lovers’ names coming out one after the other in loud wheezes.  
  
He releases Jeremy’s hair from his grip just as Jeremy slips off the end of his cock, watches the other man swallow and make a contemplative face before shrugging. James snorts a laugh out of his nose as he lies there panting, arm thrown across his forehead.  
  
“Jez,” he puffs.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Holy fuck.”  
  
Jeremy’s face breaks into a grin. The view is – not spoiled, but broken, by lovely Carol, who leans down to give him a kiss. “You can thank me later,” she says cryptically. “Now I’m going to take a shower.”  
  
James watches Jeremy as Carol leans in to kiss him, and continues watching him until he hears the soft “snick” of the door closing. The other man isn’t sure where to look, glancing down at his own hands as he worries a sheet between his fingers, peering at the darkness between slats in the window blinds.  
  
“Jezza?” James asks hesitantly.  
  
“Hmm?” Finally, he looks at James, chews at his bottom lip.  
  
“C’mere?” He nervously holds out a hand, terrified that Jeremy will reject it. After a brief pause, though, warm dry fingers enclose his own, and Jeremy allows himself to be pulled closer.  
  
They lie on their sides on separate pillows, and Jeremy tugs a sheet over their cooling bodies.  
  
James searches for the words he needs, but he isn’t sure where he wants to start. Jeremy has either turned his entire life upside down, or merely provided James with wank fodder that’ll last him a lifetime.  
  
The words, when they come suddenly, are soft, very unlike Jeremy. “I lied.” His eyes flick up, finally meet James’.  
  
“About what?”  
  
“About a lot of things. I didn’t just want to see what giving a blowjob was like. This, with you, this has been something I’ve thought about, something I’ve wanted, for a long time.”  
  
“You – you wanted  **me**?” James asks, incredulous.  
  
Jeremy lifts one corner of his mouth in a cheeky smile. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”  
  
“Oh, thanks very much.”  
  
The chuckle that breaks through sounds more familiar to James than anything else that’s happened this night. “Anyway,” Jeremy sounds unsure again. James lays his hand on top of the other mans, rubbing along the prominent veins with his thumb. “I – I was pretty sure I wanted you, but at first I was married, so I’d never have…. But then, afterward, I was worried if I just, you know,  **asked you** , that maybe I wouldn’t be able to go through with it at all, and…and I’d look like a massive cock and you’d never speak to me again,” he finishes, a flush breaking out over his face.  
  
“And your solution was a threesome?”  
  
Jeremy shrugs, defensively. “She got off on the idea of you and me together. I meant what I said to you about that. She brought up the idea to me as a way for me to get closer to you, find out if I could - ”  
  
“And if you couldn’t, I’d never be the wiser.”  
  
“ **And** , you’d still get a fantastic threesome out of it,” Jeremy says proudly.  
  
James honks one of his patented laughs, his eyes screwing shut. When he’s done, Jeremy is looking at him with an odd look on his face. “What?”  
  
“Nothing, just realized I hadn’t kissed you yet. Well,” he smirks, “not on the mouth, anyway.”  
  
“Charming, Clarkson, really.”  
  
Then Jeremy take James’ chin between his fingers and leans in. James’ eyes fall shut and there’s just a moment of anticipation before his lips are taken in a tender, searching kiss. James can still taste himself – and Carol - on Jeremy, and that realization makes him moan, makes him want to get closer.  
  
Wrapping an arm around Jeremy’s waist, he pulls himself closer until they’re chest to chest, belly to belly. One of Jeremy’s long legs wraps itself around him, as his kiss ramps up in intensity.  
  
When they finally break it off, panting, Jeremy leans his head down, presses their foreheads together. James closes his eyes, listens to Jeremy breathe, concentrates on the feeling of Jeremy’s fingers sliding over and over through his hair, runs his own hand along the smooth planes of his new lover’s back.  
  
James sighs, and it’s a happy sound, one he’s not sure he’s heard come out of himself in months, if not longer.  
  
“Yep,” Jeremy answers in agreement.  
  
James snorts softly and brushes a kiss against the other man’s chin.  
  
Carol finds them still like that when she returns from her shower. She giggles happily and leans down to kiss Jeremy when the other man turns his head toward her. When the kiss deepens, James nearly growls before remembering this woman is the only reason he’s even in Jeremy’s arms. Still, he keeps his own good-bye kiss polite but perfunctory.  
  
“I’ll be getting out of you boys’ hair,” she announces.  
  
“Wait.” There’s the rustling of covers as Jeremy slips out of bed. Grabbing his boxers, he slides them on, explaining, “I’m just going to show Carol out.”  
  
James tiredly murmurs his agreement. As Jeremy and Carol leave the room, he sighs, rolling over to press his face in the pillow.  _Jeremy wants me. Jeremy **has**  me. And I have him._ He smiles against the bedding, unable to believe his luck.  
  
Without Jeremy’s body heat pressed up against him, James begins to shiver. He finds the duvet and pulls it over himself, tucking it up against his face. He breathes in deeply. The bedding smells like sex, like him and Jeremy and Carol. While it’s a pleasant smell – right now, while it’s fresh – James would rather sleep in clean sheets, and he suspects Jeremy would, too. And he, at least, knows he won’t be up for anything else tonight other than a cuppa and a fag, and then falling into bed for some kissing, light touching, and then eight uninterrupted hours of unconsciousness.  
  
He gets out of bed and pulls on his boxers and wrinkled t-shirt. Before stripping the bed, he realizes he’d better make sure Jeremy has a spare set of bedding, so he checks the hall cupboard. He pulls out all the linen he’ll need, then returns to the bedroom where he pulls everything from the bed.  
  
Carrying a big pile of laundry down the hall toward the kitchen, he stops at the entrance to the living room when he hears voices. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.” That’s Jeremy, and if James is not mistaken, his voice sounds sultry, and interested.  
  
Confused, he peers around the corner, just in time to see Jeremy and Carol in the midst of a passionate, involved kiss. Stunned, he turns tail and nearly runs back to the bedroom.  
  
 _I can’t just assume we’re exclusive, or if that’s what he even wants._  James argues with himself as he fights with the fitted sheet.  _And, the three of us **did**  just all have sex together._ Still, seeing that so soon after having Jeremy so close to him hurts.  
  
By the time Jeremy returns, James is stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase and tossing it onto the newly made bed.  
  
“What are you doing?” Jeremy asks, clearly flummoxed.  
  
“Making the bed.”  
  
“Bloody hell, Slow, you just had amazing sex. You couldn’t push aside your OCD tendencies for a night?”  
  
James sniffs. “Apparently not.”  
  
“I was thinking we might invite Carol over again next week. As a thank you.”  
  
Folding his arms across his chest, James steps closer. “Actually, Jez, I have a couple tickets to the opera. I’d bought them months ago, to take Sarah, but now…. I was hoping you and I could go. We could get dressed up, go somewhere nice for dinner….”  
  
Jeremy snorts out a laugh. “Hell, no. I’m not a homosexualist, James. Enduring that kind of torture is something I’d do for someone I’m dating and trying to impress, not someone I’m…” his hand flaps around vaguely, “you know.”  
  
 _Someone you’re fucking?_  
  
“I’m going to make some tea and have a cigarette, James.”  _God, 15 minutes ago that sounded like heaven._  As he turns to leaves, he points at the duvet. “You’ve got the bedding all uneven over there. Surely that will drive you insane.” With an amused chuckle at his own joke, Jeremy leaves the room.  
  
The worst thing is that he’s right. Now that it’s been brought to his attention, he does feel the need to fix it.  
  
When it’s even, he gets dressed, steels himself at the door, then makes his way down the hall to where Jeremy is sat at the kitchen table, puffing on a fag.  
  
“Jez.”  
  
The brilliant smile that greets him almost crushes his resolve. Almost.  
  
“I made you a cuppa.”  
  
“I – I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”  
  
With a frown, he stubs out the cigarette into the ashtray. “Then don’t drink any bloody tea, James,” he spits.  
  
James makes himself move closer, grips the edge of the table. “You know I don’t mean the tea, Jez. I’m – you know it’s not that I don’t want you, it’s - ”  _It’s that I want you so much more than you want me, that, sometimes, I’m not even sure you like me._  
  
He doesn’t say any of that, though, instead insisting, “I’m worried of ruining our friendship if it doesn’t work out, of not being able to work together any more. Mixing sex and work, it - I couldn’t stand losing you completely.”  
  
Jeremy flaps his hand in a dismissive wave. “Fine. I told you before, you could leave at any time, no questions asked.”  
  
“Right. We – we’re okay, then?”  
  
“Of course.” He stands, then, picking up his cup of tea and heading toward the bedroom. “See you at work.” He doesn’t look back.  
  
James blinks back tears of frustration as he makes his way to the carpark.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: A Modest Proposal 3/9  
Author: nm_317  
Pairing: Jeremy/OFC, James/OFC, Jeremy/James/OFC, James/Jeremy  
Rating: NC-17  
Length: ~6,350/~50,300  
Disclaimer: They’re not mine, and this didn’t happen.  
Summary: Jeremy has an idea. Is this one of his good ideas, or will everything end in ruin?  
Author’s Notes: I had a vague idea that I thought would make a good long story. Then I thought, "Why not write it for this year's NaNoWriMo, and that'll be the motivation you need to finish it." So, I did. It barely made it. It's complete, I am just not sure how many parts I'll post it in.  
This takes place during filming for series 15 (episodes 2 and 3) and 16 (the America and Middle East trips). I don't know when these were filmed, so I did what I wanted.  
  
  
The night before shooting the third episode of series 15 – where they’ll be driving the atrocious-looking Porsche Panamera, the gorgeous Astin Martin Rapide, and the stunning Maserati Quattroporte – the crew meet in James’ local for some last-minute planning and lots of drinking.  
  
Though the pub is mere yards from James’, he is the last to arrive, causing a chorus of gentle ribbing as he finally walks in the door 15 minutes late. He makes his apologies and is relieved to find an empty chair next to Hammond, with Jeremy safely on the far side of the next table.  
  
They haven’t seen each other since their…encounter…for lack of a better term. The second James sits down with a beer in hand, Jeremy is up and out of his seat, muttering about getting another round in.  
  
Richard leans in close. “He’s been drinking since he got here. And I think that was a good while ago.”  
  
James blows air out pursed lips, wonders if he’s said anything to Richard, or to Andy, or if anyone suspects anything.  
  
“I think maybe he and Carol have split up,” Richard adds, conspiratorially.  
  
“Did he say something?”  
  
Richard shrugs. “No, but he’s got the tell-tale signs of someone who’s just been dumped. It’s fairly obvious.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Poor guy. She was really a catch.” Richard chuckles, but James can tell his heart isn’t really in it. “She probably realized she could do better than a fat yobbo.”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“What about you, mate? Seeing anyone, you know, since Sarah?”  
  
“What?” That’s the last direction he’d have expected this conversation to turn. “No. There was – No.”  
  
“Still too early? I get that.”  
  
“Mmm,” James answers into his pint. Then Andy starts shouting and everyone starts listening.  
  
\--  
  
Once the remaining details get hashed out, the crew start filtering out, talking about wanting to go home and see their families or getting a good night’s rest.  
  
“Losers,” Richard calls out, happily tipsy, as he lifts a glass in their direction. Soon, there’s only 6 or 7 of them, sitting around tables and talking quietly.  
  
Richard pulls a copy of  _AutoTrader_  out of his bag and sets it on the table. “I forgot, mate. There’s an Alfa in here that I wanted to show you.”  
  
James snorts, almost sending beer across the room. “Hammond, just because we say you aren’t a petrolhead if you’ve never owned an Alfa….”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I still want to see what you think.”  
  
“I think you’re a middle-aged man with two children who shouldn’t be – ”  
  
He’s interrupted by Jeremy shouting from across the room. He’s in some stranger’s face, telling him to mind his own fucking business and threatening him with violence.  
  
Andy and Iain are the first out of their seats, whilst James and Richard both sit there, stunned. The two men pull Jeremy off of the stranger, who’s yelling that if anyone touches him, he’ll call the police.  
  
This is when James gets up, followed closely by Richard. “Listen, sir,” James begins, calmly. “No one’s going to touch you; there’s no reason to call anyone. This has all been a misunderstanding, but we’ve got it under control now.”  
  
“Hit him, James!” Jeremy yells.  
  
“Jeremy, not helping,” Richard mutters under his breath. “C’mon, mate, let’s go over here.”  
  
As Richard helps Andy and Iain get Jeremy settled back in his chair, it becomes apparent how clattered Jeremy is. James apologizes again and buys the other man a pint for his trouble before joining the others at the table. Jeremy’s elbows are on the table, and he’s holding his head in his hands.  
  
“James?” Andy asks. James wills his body to not flinch at what he knows is coming. “Can Jeremy stay at yours tonight? I don’t fancy letting him choke to death on his own vomit, and you live the closest.”  
  
“Depends.” He leans down until he catches Jeremy’s eye. “You aren’t gonna hit me, are you?”  
  
It’s clear from the look in Jeremy’s eyes and the way that he’s shaking, just visibly, that he’s not merely drunk or mildly pissed off. He’s genuinely upset, and it’s not something he can just slag off his antagonist about.  
  
Jeremy shakes his head then carefully eases himself up from the table. James is at his side instantly, prepared to help him if he looks liable to fall over.  
  
“M’fine,” Jeremy mumbles, clearly embarrassed. He turns toward the other men. “Andy?”  
  
Andy nods in understanding, and James knows he’s twigged to the same things that he has. “I know, mate. We’ll talk about it later. James, you take care of him.”  
  
James nods as Jeremy begins making his way toward the door. “Of course.”  
  
It’s obvious that Jeremy doesn’t want to talk on their walk home, and James respects that. As soon as they walk in the door, Jeremy mutters, “I’m going to shower. I know where everything is, and I’m not really going to vomit, so you don’t need to wait up.”  
  
And that’s a signal clear enough and loud enough that even James can understand it, so he doesn’t. He feeds Fusker, then slips into his pajamas, sets the alarm and climbs into bed.  
  
\--  
  
When the noise first wakes him, he sits up in bed, startled, fumbling for his mobile on the nightstand next to him. Then he remembers: Jeremy. He lies there as his heartbeat slows, debating whether to stay in bed or get up and see if Jeremy’s okay.  
  
After a bit, he realizes he has to piss, and then, after he’s done that, he may as well go to the kitchen and have a cup of tea, and if Jeremy wants to talk, so be it.  
  
“Shit. Did I wake you?” Jeremy looks up from the glass of water in front of him as James enters the room. He hadn't put his jeans back on after his shower, so he’s wearing nothing but his dirty t-shirt and striped boxers. James is briefly disappointed in himself for not offering to find him something to sleep in, but then he remembers that he doesn’t care.  
  
Shrugging, James hedges, “Bladder was going to soon enough anyway.”  
  
Jeremy grunts his understanding as James puts the kettle on.  
  
“Tea?”  
  
“What? Yeah, yeah, tea sounds good, thanks.”  
  
They’re silent as James makes and pours the tea then brings Jeremy his cup before sitting at the table across from him.  
  
Eventually, Jeremy mumbles, “You probably want me to explain myself.”  
  
James shrugs. “Only if you want to talk to me about it. I think you do want to talk about it with someone, but I understand if you’d rather it not be me.”  
  
Jeremy curves his hands around the sides of the mug, as if stealing its warmth. “I miss my kids,” he says finally.  
  
“Of course you do.  **I**  miss your kids.” Since the divorce and Jeremy moving out of the Chipping Norton house, there’ve been no more weekends spent at the Clarkson’s riding four-wheelers and annoying the neighbors.  
  
Jeremy raises his eyebrows in surprise but then nods in understanding. “We’ll have to remedy that,” he says quietly.  
  
“No need to put your kids through that, surely,” James argues.  
  
Jeremy shrugs. “My kids love you.” Just hearing that warms James’ heart more than it probably should.  
  
Clearing his throat, James asks, “Is that what was bothering you at the pub?”  
  
“It’s what’s always bothering me. But, I bumped into that man on my way out of the toilet. I apologized, and everything was fine until he realized who I was.”  
  
 _Oh, no._  “Did he say something to you?”  
  
“Apparently, he’s one of those people who believes everything he reads in  _The Daily Mail_.”  
  
This time he says it out loud. “Oh, no.”  
  
“He made some crack about infidelity and Francie finally having enough. I mean, you know that wasn’t why my marriage ended, but he wouldn’t shut up. Finally, he said, and I remember his words very distinctly, ‘I hear she’s got a new man now. How does it feel having someone else in your house, raising your kids?’”  
  
James can see tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.  
  
“I wish you’d told me, Jezza. I’d’ve hit him.” The fierceness in James’ voice surprises him.  
  
For the first time, Jeremy looks at him, smiles just a bit. “You wouldn’t.”  
  
“Okay, I wouldn’t, but I would have held him still while Hammond hit him. He’s good at hitting people.” Secretly, though, James knows that if he’d heard those words come out of another person’s mouth, he wouldn’t have been able to control his fists. It would have been a most ineffective fight, but James would’ve had it.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell any of us when it happened?” He suspects he knows the answer, but he thinks Jeremy needs the prompting.  
  
Those huge hands engulf Jeremy’s face again as the other man hides from the world. “Because he’s not wrong,” he mumbles. “I mean, he’s wrong about why Francie and I split, but for the rest of it?” James can hear the tears threatening to fall and wishes things between him and Jeremy weren’t so weird. He’d close the distance between them and rest a hand on his shoulder, something to try to help.  
  
“It’s just not true, Jeremy,” James promises. “Your children worship you, and they know you’re there any time they need you.”  
  
A small sob breaks loose, and all James can do is sit there. “Jez,” he tries, helplessly.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Jeremy rubs at his eyes then finally lifts his head. “Thank you, James.”  
  
“F’what?”  
  
“Saying what you said. Letting me talk.”  
  
“Jeremy, all I did was tell you the truth.” He attempts a dig at himself, “It’s all I can do. You know how well I deal with….” He waves his hand back and forth, looking for the word.  
  
“Emotions?” Jeremy suggests with a smile.  
  
“Yeah. Those things.” To his delight, this makes Jeremy chuckle. “And I listened, which I’ll do any time you want me to.”  
  
“I appreciate it. I mean, I really, truly appreciate it.”  
  
“Are we – are we okay? You and me? I mean…?”  
  
Jeremy sighs, scrubs at the back of his head with his fist. “Yeah. It’s just, just one of those things. Better now then months down the road.” He makes a show of looking at his watch. “It’s getting late. I’d better try to sleep.”  
  
“Yeah. Me too.” At the top of the stairs, James stops, turns toward his friend. “Sweet dreams, Jez.”  
  
\--  
  
After the wedding go-ers are dropped back at their homes, or – in the newly-weds' cases, their five-star hotel (and they’d wised up and had James drive them, as he was the least likely to offend anyone or make them regret their decision, but they’d fitted his car with SatNav this time), they decamp to another pub. Andy’s drawn the short straw, so he’s been tasked with staying sober and getting everyone safely home.  
  
“We do spend an awful lot of time drinking,” Richard notices as James returns with the fourth round of beer, and a Coke for Andy.  
  
“Well, you lot are difficult to stand when sober, I can attest to that,” Andy returns, somewhat morosely.  
  
“Oh, be quiet, old man,” Jeremy rubs. “It’s only for the night.”  
  
“Who are you calling ‘old man?’ Remember you’re older than I am.”  
  
To the left of James, Richard opens his mouth – probably planning to interject how he’s younger than all of them - but then he wisely shuts it with a snap.  
  
“How did the chauffeuring go, lads?” Andy asks.  
  
“I impressed the ladies with the speed of the Porsche,” Jeremy boasts.  
  
“But your trousers were appalling,” James adds.  
  
“But my trousers were appalling,” Jeremy agrees, “and not my best idea ever.”  
  
“When do your ideas ever go well?” Richard asks with a laugh, but sounding genuinely curious.  
  
“Well, it was my idea to hire you,” he points out. “And James.”  
  
James blinks three times quickly. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah. How did you think that came about?” Jeremy frowns.  
  
“I – really, I guess I’d never stopped to think about it. Just thanked my lucky stars.” Nearly every day, despite the back of his car repeatedly being driven into, the almost constant slow or gay jokes, the always-present sense that someone, someday was going to find out that he didn’t belong and he’d be sacked, just like at  _Autocar_.  
  
“To Jeremy’s two good ideas,” Richard calls out, raising his beer glass. The other raises their glasses and toast as well.  
  
“Not that I want you to begin questioning one of your two brilliant ideas – ” James begins.  
  
“I never said hiring you was  **brilliant** , May,” Jeremy teases, “just that it turned out all right in the end.”  
  
“Right, well, in addition to being more-than-fashionably late, I may have bored the bride. A bit.”  
  
“Not  **you** , May,” Jeremy says, sarcastically.  
  
“What’d you do, mate?” Richard asks, leaning forward in his seat.  
  
“Nothing. I just told her about the car.”  
  
Three men groan loudly.  
  
“What? She should appreciate the magnificent car she’s being driven in.”  
  
“Not on her wedding day, May!” Richard argues.  
  
Jeremy adds, “And then you got her lost. Which was so predictable it barely needs a mention.”  
  
“I may have got her lost, yes,” James agrees reluctantly.  
  
Richard volunteers, “I may have sort of terrified the groom, a bit.”  
  
“What did you do, Hammond?” Andy asks.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know, said some things about marriage being forever, and ever, and ever.”  
  
“Wouldn’t he have realized that already?” James asks, confused. “I mean, he went through the work of getting the ring and proposing, and then they had to, I don’t know what you do for a wedding, bake a cake or something?”  
  
“Bake a cake?” Jeremy asks in astonishment.  
  
“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never been married, have I?”  
  
“You think you know what it’s going to be like, being with the same person day in and day out, but you’re never prepared for the reality.” Andy fiddles with his coaster, and James wonders briefly if he’s about to acknowledge problems in his own marriage, but then he continues, “And for some people, it’s not what they expected, but if you’re lucky,” he lifts his head, a pleased smile on his face, “if you’re lucky, it’s the best decision you’ll ever make.”  
  
Richard murmurs his agreement. “I was terrified the morning of my wedding. Nearly threw up on my shoes.”  
  
“I think everyone is nervous,” Jeremy offers. “I was, and I did it twice. And it was even more nerve-wracking the second time.”  
  
“Is – Never mind,” James cuts himself off.  
  
Jeremy takes a sip of beer and looks at him seriously. “You can ask.”  
  
James sighs. “Is – was it harder the second time, because you knew how, I don’t know, how it could end up?”  
  
Jeremy nods, running his finger around the lip of his glass. “I’d experience the utter explosion of a marriage, and it wasn’t something I was too keen on repeating. But, I guess I made a bit of a better job of it the second time.”  
  
“It’s hard, being married,” Richard says quietly. “Being on telly and being away so much doesn’t make it any easier.”  
  
“S’nice, though,” Jeremy admits.  
  
“Do you miss it?” Andy asks.  
  
“Yeah. Not – I don’t miss Francie specifically, but marriage? Yeah. It’s nice coming home and knowing someone will always be there for you.”  
  
James isn’t sure why he wants to know, but he does, so he makes himself ask, “Do you think you’ll want to get married again?”  
  
Jeremy finishes his beer in three long gulps before answering, “Yeah. I’d like to. If I meet the right…the right woman. I mean, I’m certainly not looking right now. I, you know, I need some time to heal.”  
  
 _The right woman._  Not the right person. Certainly not James.  
  
Not that it matters. James says, “I have to admit, I don’t understand the desire to get married. Why do you need a piece of paper to say that you love someone? And then if it all falls apart, and it seems it mostly does, it just makes it that much harder to go your separate ways. It’s madness, I tell you.”  
  
“You wouldn’t make an exception?” Jeremy asks. “If it were something important to the other person?”  
  
James shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, does it? No one’s asking me, nor is anyone liable to.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know, I managed to convince two women that marrying me wasn’t an awful idea. Certainly there’s still a chance for you, if you want.”  
  
James lifts one corner of his mouth in a feeble attempt at a smile. Then he pushes himself up from the table. “I’m going to visit the bog.”  
  
\--  
  
When he returns to the table, the three of them are leaning over it, talking conspiratorially. Hammond catches sight of him and says, rather loudly, “And that’s why the Maserati is the better car.”  
  
James rolls his eyes as he grabs his jacket. “Not at all subtle, Hammond. I’m stepping outside for a fag, give you a chance to finish talking about me, if you want.”  
  
He’s only just found a spot out of the wind where he can enjoy his fag without the smoke blowing back in his face when Jeremy appears.  
  
Without waiting for the request, James taps a cigarette out of the packet and holds it out for Jeremy, then drops his lighter into his hand.  
  
“Thanks, mate.”  
  
“Mmm-hmm.”  
  
Jeremy is quiet just long enough for James to hope he can just smoke in peace before he opens his mouth and ruins the dream. “You mean what you said in there?”  
  
“’Course I did.”  
  
“It’s not just a piece of paper, James.”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“No, it’s…when you introduce yourself, ‘Hi, I’m so-and-so and this is my wife,” other people take your relationship so much more seriously than if you say, “and this is my girlfriend.”  
  
“Well that’s bollocks. And, anyway, why does it matter what other people think?”  
  
“I – I don’t know, it just does,” Jeremy sputters.  
  
“I was faithful to Sarah, and, as far as I know, she was to me, and we didn’t need a ring or a piece of paper to make that agreement. Perhaps if we’d got married, it would have been harder to break up.”  
  
“See?”  
  
“And then instead of being reasonably happy and alone, I’d still be with her and miserable because neither of us was in love any longer.”  
  
Jeremy sighs. “I don’t know, maybe it’s different because I have kids.”  
  
James pauses to consider that. “Maybe. Probably.”  
  
“D’you ever regret not having any?”  
  
“No.” James stubs out the end of his cigarette against the brick wall of the pub.  
  
“Never?”  
  
“Jez, you and I are such different people. I know sometimes it’s hard for you to understand me and why I feel the way I do about certain things. But I can only assure you that I don’t feel I’ve missed out on anything by not having a wife or by not spawning. And I don’t think it’s made me less of a person, or made my relationships less real.”  
  
“No, I – no, James, I wasn’t suggesting that. I didn’t mean to – I know I would joke about your being single, but I never thought of you that way. Not really. You had Sarah, and we all knew what she meant to you.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“You’d have made a good dad, though. A great one, actually.”  
  
James shakes his head. “Children are terrifying.”  
  
Jeremy laughs deeply. “They are. They really are.” He claps his hand on the back of James’ neck. James tries to suppress the shiver that runs through him at the contact and the memories it invokes, but he must not be successful.  
  
“Cold?” Jeremy asks.  
  
“A bit.”  
  
“Let’s get back inside then.”  
  
\--  
  
James packs for their trip to America, confident that things between him and Jeremy are as okay as they ever are. And they are all right, mostly. Until they arrive at their Virginian chalet.  
  
James is in the living room, reading a book, when Jeremy finally arrives after his futile attempt to find new tires for his Mercedes.  
  
“Of course,” Jeremy says, sneering, when he walks through the door. “Everyone else is out, having fun, and you’re sat here reading bloody girly poetry and drinking poncy fruity wine.”  
  
“You like this poncy fruity wine,” James argues half-heartedly.  
  
“Whatever. Do you happen to know where the interesting people went off to? I’d rather not stay here with a tedious bore. Next thing I know, you’ll be sorting your socks.”  
  
It seems like Jeremy is searching for a fight, but James won’t give it to him. “No, I don’t know where everyone else went. If you’d rather spend time with them, I suggest you ring them and find out. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to read.”  
  
Jeremy does find out where the others are, and goes out to find them. They’re still gone when James decides, sensibly, that it’s time to turn in.  
  
He’s nearly asleep when a loud crash rips him into complete wakefulness.  
  
“Shhh,” it’s a very drunk-sounding Hammond, his voice coming from just outside James’ door. “You’ll wake James.” From the way he’s slurring his words, James knows that it’ll be just minutes before he’s fast asleep, and nothing – save maybe his need to puke – will wake him until morning. If he were a good friend, he’d climb out of bed, find some Paracetemol and a bucket and send him on his way, but he’s annoyed enough to make him want to suffer his hangover.  
  
“The man needs to live a little,” Jeremy says in a hoarse whisper.  
  
“Be nice, Jeremy,” Richard warns. “All right, I’m off to bed.”  
  
“Night, Hamster.”  
  
“Night, Jez.”  
  
Finally, there are no sounds other than the comparatively quiet ones of Jeremy getting changed in the room next door. He can hear the other man puttering about, running the water to brush his teeth in the en suite, then finally the quiet creak of the mattress springs when he slides into bed.  
  
Then, silence.  
  
James sighs, closes his eyes, pulls the blanket closer to his chin, and waits patiently for sleep to come.  
  
Not two minutes later he can hear a muted sigh, and it’s then that he realizes that his and Jeremy’s beds share the same wall. Then the bed creaks again and there’s a light thump against his wall.  
  
 _What the fuck is he doing?_  
  
That question is answered when he next hears a quiet, “Fuck yes.”  
  
 _The bastard is masturbating._  And it’s not just an unfortunate coincidence that James is able to hear. James has been close enough, awkwardly, to Jeremy when he’s masturbated, enough times to know that this isn’t how it goes. He’s doing this because he knows James can hear him through the wall.  
  
“Oh, god, Carol,” he whimpers through the wall, the creaking and thumping becoming rhythmic.  
  
 _Oh, that’s rich. Who even does that? And what can he possibly be doing to create those sounds. Oh, great._  Now he’s picturing Jeremy wanking, and that’s the last thing he wants to do now, with Jeremy next door and Richard across the hall, and no way to relieve himself without anyone knowing.  
  
He must be on his knees, then, one hand on the headboard, pumping his cock into his fist. Or, maybe, lying on his back with his knees bent, feet pressed against the wall, fingers sliding in and out of his arse. He’d been awfully interested in how it had felt for Carol, after all; there’s no way she hasn’t shown him. James is sure Jeremy is dealing with the disappointment of not having James to sleep with by just fucking Carol that much more.  
  
“Shit, that’s good,” the mutters continue from next door. “Oh…oh, god, yes. Harder.”  
  
James cock is so hard now it’s getting painful to ignore it. Maybe he can take care of it now, when Jeremy is preoccupied. Maybe he can be silent.  
  
His hand slips inside his boxers, and he swallows a moan. He bites down on his bottom lip as he begins to stroke in time to the squeaks from Jeremy’s bed.  
  
“Yes, yes,” the noises from Jeremy’s room are turning into chants, and James rubs a thumb around the head of his cock. There’s nothing graceful about this wank; it’s about three things: speed, lack of detection, and release.  
  
James bites back a whimper as Jeremy lets out a low moan at the same time that James hits  **that spot**  with the side of his thumbnail.  
  
He can tell by the way that Jeremy’s litany has become more blasphemous (god and fuck and jesus all featuring prominently) that Jeremy is nearing the end. His eyes tightly shut, James slips a hand under his shirt, pinches at a nipple and tries to pretend it’s someone else. He’s not above being pathetic if it means he’ll come sooner.  
  
“Fuck, oh yes, god Carol.” Jeremy’s low, groaning cry is the thing James needs to push him over the edge. He comes hard, slapping his hand over his mouth and biting down on his finger to hold back his yell.  
  
And then it’s over, and he’s just lying there, alone, with Jeremy just inches away through plaster, covered in his own spunk, the smell of sad, depressing sex in the air.  
  
It’s a long time before he falls asleep. The only solace is that, based on the lack of snoring he can hear, Jeremy suffers awake with him.  
  
\--  
  
Richard is still in bed when James gets out of the shower and shuffles tiredly into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea. Jeremy is sat at the dining room table, a cup of steaming coffee and a newspaper open in front of him, muttering about stupid, fat Americans.  
  
“You arsehole,” is the first thing James greets him with. The words slip out of his mouth before he even knows he’s going to say anything.  
  
“What?” Jeremy asks, eyes comically wide in pretend innocence.  
  
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. What was that show about last night?”  
  
Jeremy chuckles into his coffee mug. “You’re just jealous that I can still get some. That I’ve got someone I can wank to thoughts of. Someone actually attainable, waiting for me back home.”  
  
He has no response to that. It’s not entirely true: if he just wanted sex, he could get that. The problem is that he wants more than just sex. And he wants it from Jeremy.  
  
“Fuck off,” is all he says in response.  
  
\--  
  
By mutual silent agreement, James and Jeremy are their usual, matey selves on camera, even if off camera they don’t speak.  
  
While Jeremy’s method of avoiding James involves exactly that, James finds it easier to just withdraw from everyone, sitting by himself during breaks, taking his lunch outside by the pond where he can feed the ducks.  
  
As a result, James is the one who gets the piss taken out of him, asked by Grant, the assistant producer, why his knickers are suddenly in a twist.  
  
“Twat” is how he responds to that witty remark.  
  
“Those ducks look vicious.”  
  
The voice behind him startles him, nearly makes him drop his hamburger.  
  
“Hammond, you’re a country boy. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of ducks.” It feels weird talking to someone voluntarily after hours of only doing so by necessity.  
  
“Look at the way they try to murder each other every time you throw out a chip, and tell me they don’t have a secret evil side.”  
  
James huffs a laugh and budges over on the large rock he’s sat on to make room for Richard.  
  
“All right?”  
  
James nods once.  
  
“Then why are you out here all by yourself?”  
  
“Can’t a man get a moment’s peace without everyone questioning him?”  
  
“No.” When James turns to glare at him, Richard merely grins beneath his sloppy fringe.  
  
“You know, Jezza gave Grant a bollocking in there and you missed it.”  
  
James tosses a chip to one of the ducks sitting by himself…herself…and watches it gobble it up. “F’what?”  
  
Richard looks sheepish, as if he’s only now realized he’ll have to tell James what the other man said. “Er, he said something about you, I dunno what, and Jeremy didn’t like it. Told him if he heard another word like that come out of his mouth, he’d be sacked.”  
  
“ **Jeremy**  said that?”  
  
“’Course he did,” Richard replies, as if that weren’t the strangest thing James has heard all day.  
  
“And you came all the way out here to tell me that?”  
  
“Bloody hell no,” Richard answers with a laugh. “I came out here to tell you we’re about to leave. I just thought you might want to know that, you know, some of us like you, even though you’re odd.”  
  
James snorts, but he’s genuinely touched. “Thanks, mate.”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t say  **I**  liked you,” Hammond argues, a wide grin on his face. Then, with a speed and agility James has long admired, he hops up from his spot on the rock and holds out a hand to help James.  
  
“Oof,” he groans. “Good job most of your chips went to the ducks, May.”  
  
They walk back to their cars. Just before James climbs into his, Jeremy catches his eye. Instead of looking away as he has been all morning, Jeremy nods and says, “May.”  
  
“Clarkson.”  
  
It’s as close as an apology as he’s likely to get. It’ll do until they’re back in London, anyway.  
  
\--  
  
Their last night in New York City, Jeremy manages to find a bar where smoking is still allowed inside.  
  
“I can have a fag with my beer? We must find a taxi to take us to this mystical place in the land of clean air and dullness.”  
  
James hasn’t been invited, though he knows he could tag along and be welcome, but anyway, it’s not every day he’s in New York City, and with no shooting schedule to adhere to, to boot.  
  
So he sets off on foot, reasonably sure that this city is one he can wander without getting lost. He strolls through a small park, browses through numerous small shops, and eventually finds himself tasting wine at a really rather marvelous little winery.  
  
It’s late when he arrives back at the hotel, popping in to the hotel bar before he heads upstairs to his room.  
  
“Where were you, mate?” Iain asks as James sits down at the table with him, Andy, and Richard. “We missed you at the smoking bar.”  
  
“Exploring. I know it’s a bit too cultured for you lot and your ‘fags and beer’ requirement,” he teases, thankful he’s back on mostly-even footing with his mates, “but there is more to this city than alcohol.”  
  
“Exactly,” Richard replies. “If you look hard enough, there’s also cigarettes.”  
  
“Where’d you end up, then?” Iain asks. “Museum, opera, architectural tour?”  
  
James looks down at his drink and attempts to hold back his slightly-inebriated giggle. “Winery.”  
  
“You pikey!” Richard exclaims, punching James on the shoulder. “I thought you looked pissed when you walked in here.”  
  
“The wine was good, then?” Iain wonders.  
  
“Very.”  
  
“You do know you’re supposed to spit it out at a wine tasting?” Andy jokes, leaving the door open for James to begin one of his wine rants.  
  
Instead, he just shakes his head and wonders, “Where’s Jezza?”  
  
Andy answers, “Bar. Last we saw him he was arguing with someone about Porsches.”  
  
“Bloody Norah,” James breathes. “And you lot left him?!”  
  
Andy shrugs. “He’s an adult. Sort of.” He grins. “And the shoot’s over, so if he ends up with a black eye….”  
  
James pushes himself up off the table. He doesn’t care if it makes him look weak, like he’s Jeremy’s bitch. “I’m going to find him, make sure he gets back without getting his arse kicked.”  
  
“He’s a big boy, James,” Richard argues.  
  
“He’s a big boy who doesn’t know how to shut his mouth. Or how to take a punch. I’ll see you lot in the morning.”  
  
\--  
  
He’s grown so accustomed to walking into a pub and being able to see that when he first walks into the smoking bar, his eyes sting and everything is just a blur through the clouds of smoke.  
  
As he walks through the bar glancing briefly at each table, hoping to see Jeremy, it’s Jeremy’s voice that he notices first, coming from a dark corner booth, halfway hidden behind a pot plant.  
  
He makes his way toward Jeremy, preparing to interrupt the makings of a fight between him and this man he sits with when…. Oh, that doesn’t look like fighting. He stops dead in his tracks, hopes Jeremy won’t look in his direction.  
  
But Jeremy doesn’t seem interested in anyone other than his tall, dark-haired companion. He sits still, watching intently, as the man he’s sitting with draws a gentle finger up his hand and around his wrist. When he looks up, James can see a bit of uncertainty in his eyes, but it’s quickly overpowered by lust. They lean in close over the center of the table, talking quietly, then Jeremy nods, and both men push their chairs away from the table.  
  
In a panic, James nearly dives into an open booth, grabbing a drinks menu and holding it up to his face, trying to avoid detection. Again, Jeremy has eyes only for this mystery man and doesn’t notice James.  
  
Jeremy. Leaving with another man. A man who isn’t James. It’s like someone tossed a glass of ice water over his face.  
  
“Can I get you something to drink?”  
  
“What?” Confused, James looks up, into the face of a tired-looking, yet smiling waitress. “Oh, I, no, I’m sorry, I – Sorry,” he says again, getting up quickly from his table and all but running out the door.  
  
James spots Jeremy and  **that man**  a couple of blocks ahead of him. When they turn left, he does, too, thankful for the still-busy streets and Jeremy’s enormous bulk making him easy to follow. Another two blocks and they stop in front of a block of flats – apartments – stuffed between a hat shop and a nail salon.  
  
 _Don’t go in. Please, Jezza._  
  
Jeremy stands outside the front door for a long minute. Then he follows the other man inside.  
  
\--  
  
Jeremy is the last one to breakfast the next morning. Everyone is cheerful and excited to be heading back to London. Everyone but James, who snaps at Richard the second time he asks, “What makes this breakfast ‘continental,’ do you think?”  
  
“Shit. Sorry, Hammond. I didn’t sleep well.”  
  
“Did you save Jeremy from getting pounded on, at least?”  
  
James’ stomach roils.  _Fuck. Pounded on._  “Didn’t find him, actually.”  
  
Jeremy, when he finally arrives, is looking…well, the same as always. He has bags under his eyes, and there’s a perpetual smirk on his face. Nothing new there.  
  
James swallows his last gulp of tea just as Jeremy sits down next to him. He pushes up from the table, prompting Jeremy to ask, “What’s your problem? Do I smell bad or something?”  
  
“What?” James asks. “I’m done eating. You don’t need someone to cut up your food, do you?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I’m going to have a fag outside before we leave for the airport.”  
  
\--  
  
James sits in a hard, plastic airport seat while he waits for their flight to be called. He hates this part, the hurry up and wait of it all. He just wants to be home, with his cat, and a proper cup of tea. And no Jeremy. He’d picked a seat apart from everyone else, pulling a book out of his carry-on and hoping that everyone leaves him alone.  
  
It’s no surprise when that doesn’t work.  
  
Jeremy drops into the seat next to him, unable to suppress a wince as his arse touches the unforgiving plastic.  
  
“Feeling a little sore this morning?” James mocks.  
  
“Yeah. Took my last Ibuprofen yesterday. Forgot to get some before we left the hotel.”  
  
“Not the best idea, perhaps, night before an eight-hour flight.”  
  
Jeremy’s lips curve into a smile. “What are you talking about, May? It’s too early for your ramblings to make any sense.”  
  
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Clarkson,” James hisses, leaning in so no one can eavesdrop on their conversation. “I went back to the smoking bar, once everyone else had left. I went there prepared to talk you out of a fight with a Porsche fan; instead, I found you all doe-eyed with some stranger, who you then proceeded to go home with!”  
  
Jeremy looks stunned.  _Ha, finally my turn to surprise him._  Then he jeers, “Of course I went home with him, May. He was gorgeous. And did you see that arse?”  
  
“Be quiet, Clarkson. People are going to hear.”  
  
“Oh, lighten up. Did I mention? The things he could do with his tongue?” He pretends to fan himself.  
  
“You went home with someone you’d just met. Do you realize how stupid that is? Were you at least safe, Jeremy? And, are you sure he isn’t going to go straight to the tabloids, sell the story to the highest bidder?”  
  
“Oh, that’s the real truth, isn’t it? Are you worried about me? Or are you worried about the show?”  
  
“Jez, of course I – ”  
  
“Or – and I think I’ve got it now - are you just jealous that I’m brave enough that if I’m single, and I meet a guy I want to sleep with, I’ll do it. I don’t have to jump back in the closet because, “Oh, no, I’m on telly, and someone might find out. Whatever would I do?’” He simpers.  
  
“ **That’s**  what you’re pissed off about,” Jeremy continues. “Now give your bloody self-righteous indignation a rest and live a little, James.” Jeremy pushes himself out of the chair and stalks off toward the men’s bog.  
  
James rubs at his face, pulls at his hair, wishes he could call Jeremy a liar.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s a relief to touch down in dreary, overcast London and be able to finally put some space between himself and Jeremy. He dawdles on the plane, taking so long to haul his carry-on out of the overhead compartment that Richard looks at him and snorts, “Need some help there, mate?”  
  
Finally tugging it free, he mutters, “I got it, thanks.”  
  
James watches Richard glance around them at the mostly empty seats and steels himself for what he knows is coming. “So, you and Jeremy…what’s going on there?”  
  
Sighing, James slings his bag over his shoulder and makes his way toward the exit. He thinks of lying, claiming there’s nothing going on, but Richard isn’t that stupid, and, anyway, he deserves better. He deserves better than doing a show with two mates who can barely stand to be in the same room, but there’s not much James can do about that.  
  
“It’s complicated, Hammond.”  
  
“Well…well, try to fix it, mate. I don’t fancy being with the two of you in the Middle East if you can’t stand each other. That region has enough problems without us bringing more into it.”  
  
“Yeah,” James agrees absently. He’s relieved when Richard scurries ahead and he’s left alone.  
  
The  _Top Gear_  team have seemingly surrounded baggage claim, and it looks as if he’s last to arrive. Jeremy’s nose is buried in his mobile, thumbs swiping furiously.  _Probably facespacing his new boyfriend_ , James thinks, knowing even as the words cross his mind that he’s being ridiculous and yet not caring.  
  
The sight reminds him, though, and he pulls out his own mobile and powers it on, leaning back against the wall and settling in for what he hopes isn’t much of a wait.  
  
12 missed calls? That’s highly unusual. Six of them are from his dad, and he’s blaming that on pocket-dialing until he notices there are three from each of his sisters. And four voicemails.  _Fuck._  
  
He steps away from the wall, heart racing, as he brings the mobile up to his ear. Shoving one hand in his pocket to control the trembling, he listens to his dad’s voice tell him his mum is in hospital and he needs to ring back as soon as he can.  
  
Deleting the message and waiting for the next to play, James turns swiftly on his heel, long strides powering him toward somewhere he hopes he can hire a car.  
  
“James!” That’s Jeremy’s voice behind him, but he ignores it as he listens to the next message, this one from his older sister, her voice panicky (and that’s the thing that scares him the most, that nearly causes him to lose grip on the mobile, knowing something has unnerved the unflappable Jane), essentially repeating his dad’s message.  
  
He’s halfway through the third message (another from his dad, repeating the need for James to call but providing no additional details – and is it because he doesn’t  **know**  anything more, or that the words are too horrible to say over voicemail?) when Jeremy finally reaches him.  
  
“James,” he huffs, gripping James’ shoulder in his big hand, “where are you going? You left your bag sitting there….” He trails off when James finally turns his head. “What – what’s wrong?”  
  
“Mum’s in hospital,” James whispers, desperately willing the next – and final – voicemail to begin playing.  
  
“Is –is she all right?”  
  
James shrugs and indicates for Jeremy to be quiet. After the final voicemail, from his other sister, he knows no more than he did and he says so to Jeremy.  
  
“Right,” the other man booms decisively. “I’m driving you to the hospital.” He pulls out his mobile and begins texting, then starts walking toward the exit.  
  
“Jez,” James says, jogging to catch up, and there’s nothing more he’d like to help get him through this than to have the opinionated, decisive Clarkson guiding him, but, “They were in Liverpool visiting my aunt. You don’t need –”  
  
“I texted Andy. He’ll make sure our bags get picked up and taken care of. Your car isn’t even here, is it?”  
  
It’s not, he’d caught a ride with Iain, but, “I can hire one. It’s not –”  
  
“I’ll get you there in half the time. And you – you shouldn’t be driving,” he says, as if that’s the end of it. And, James supposes, it is.  
  
“I need to ring my dad back,” he says finally, quietly, not really sure why he’s saying it, just needing to, needing Jeremy there with him.  
  
Jeremy rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. Ring him. I’m right here.”  
  
With a nod, James looks down at his mobile and swipes his fingers over the correct sequence of numbers. They’re at the exit, now, and the only thing that stops him walking into the doorframe is Jeremy’s guiding hand on his elbow. He looks up as he brings the mobile to his ear and lifts one corner of his mouth in the closest thing approximating a smile he can muster.  
  
The same smile is mirrored on Jeremy’s tired face.  
  
Head down, free arm curved over his chest, the only thing that gets him safely to the car is Jeremy’s hand on his back, steering him in the right direction, and the man himself telling gawking travelers in no uncertain terms to fuck off.  
  
“That’s going to be a hell of a headline in  _The Daily Mail_ ,” James muses as he slips his mobile back into his pocket. “Clarkson and ‘The Other One’ Tell Off Young Boy Looking for a Photo.” But he’s bloody grateful.  
  
“Bollocks. He was 17 if he was a day. And it’s past time he learnt disappointment. No one answering?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Well, you know how hospital waiting rooms are about that. Doesn’t mean anything.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
James opens the passenger door of Jeremy’s Merc and collapses into the seat with a sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers, attempting to ward off the impending headache.  
  
“D’you know what hospital it is?” Jeremy asks, fiddling with the Merc’s SatNav. When James doesn’t answer right away, Jeremy says his name. And then again.  
  
“Huh, what?” his head whirling so quickly in Jeremy’s direction that he knows he’ll be feeling it in the morning.  
  
He almost wishes Jeremy would take the piss about his absentmindedness, just for the sense of normalcy, but the other man just repeats, “Do you know which hospital?”  
  
“Royal Liverpool University.”  
  
Head against the window, eyes on the rapidly changing scenery but not aware of any of it, James is lost in his own thoughts, thumb absentmindedly tracing the edges of his mobile. Jeremy’s unusually quiet, probably unsure what to say, and that’s another detail of this day that’s causing James great consternation. Jeremy without words is a harbinger of doom if ever there were one.  
  
The ring tone, when it finally sounds in the silent car, makes both of them gasp in shock, and James’ heart begins to race. “It’s Dad,” he says for Jeremy’s benefit.  
  
“Dad,” he answers, fingers clutching at the knee of his jeans.  
  
“I can’t talk long, son,” his dad begins, hours of stress and worry apparent in his voice. “They’re taking her into surgery.”  
  
“Is she – will she be all right? What happened?”  
  
“She was feeling short of breath, but she blamed it on the amount of walking we did yesterday, but then she was feeling a tightness in her chest this morning, so we brought her in. Her arteries are blocked, and her doctor recommended getting her into surgery right away.”  
  
James knows the situation is serious, but he can’t help feel useless and unwanted, with all these decisions being made earlier in the day while he was thousands of feet in the air. He pushes those thoughts aside and asks, “What are they going to do?”  
  
He can hear the rustling of paper through the phone and smiles inwardly at the though of his dad writing down what the doctor had told the family, so he’d be able to repeat it accurately to James. The thought makes him feel a bit better.  
  
“Its, uh, it’s called coronary artery bypass grafting.”  
  
James files that name away so he can look it up once he hangs up.  
  
“And – and how…? Will she….?” He trails off, biting his lip to hold back the threat of tears. A rough hand covers his, and his own fingers unconsciously curl around Jeremy’s.  
  
“They say it looks promising, but….” James’ dad trails off with an exhausted sigh, and James can hear the words he isn’t saying,  _But surgery is always a risk,_  and  _Your mother isn’t as young as she used to be._  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I’ve got to go, James. They’re getting ready to wheel her into surgery now.”  
  
“Dad?” The word comes out clipped, needing to be said before his father hangs up.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I love you.”  
  
There’s a sniffle over the line, then James hears, “I love you, too, son.”  
  
“Tell, tell Mum….” He breaks off, taking a deep, watery breath, the fingers covering his own tightening in support.  
  
“I will. She knows, James. Don’t worry, she knows.”  
  
It isn’t until he disconnects the call that he realizes he’s clutching Jeremy’s hand so tightly that the man’s skin is turning white. “Sorry,” he tries to say, but it’s swallowed by a single, quiet sob. He loosens his grip but he doesn’t let go, and neither does Jeremy.  
  
“Shhh. I’m fine.” Jeremy waits for a moment, then asks, “How is she?”  
  
James tells him what he knows, which isn’t much.  
  
“She’s a strong woman, your mother.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I meant, must’ve been, to raise you.”  
  
It’s a weak joke, but James appreciates the attempt and smiles wanly in Jeremy’s direction. Then, with a final squeeze and a weary sigh, he releases his hold on Jeremy’s hand. “I’m going to see what I can learn about this surgery.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
James misses the warmth of the other man’s hand on his when Jeremy returns it to his steering wheel, but he pushes the thought aside and begins his Google search.  
  
\--  
  
Reading about his mum’s surgery and not being able to be there ends up being more than he can handle, so, after giving it up as a bad job, he takes Jeremy’s suggestion and leans his head against the window and tries to sleep.  
  
He’s sure he won’t, but he must do, because the next thing he’s aware of is Jeremy gently pushing against his shoulder and quietly saying his name.  
  
“Hmm?” he mutters sleepily.  
  
“We’re at the hospital.”  
  
 _Oh, god._  In his sleep, he’d briefly managed to forget where they were going.  
  
“I slept the whole way?” And didn’t get a text or call the entire time? He hopes the old adage ‘no news is good news’ manages to hold true this time.  
  
“Yeah. Drooled all over the upholstery.”  
  
James rolls his eyes. “Jez?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Will – will you stay? For a bit? Until, until I know if….”  
  
“Of course I will.”  
  
\--  
  
The nurse behind the desk tells him where he can find his family, and he listens, but at the very first corridor tries to take a left when he should take a right.  
  
Jeremy tugs at his arm and pulls him in the right direction, and the list of things he’ll need to thank him for when this is over grows by one.  
  
When they reach the closed door of the waiting room, James pauses, rests his hand flat against the wood.  
  
There’s a soft, brief touch against his upper arm, then Jeremy asks, “Want me to wait out here for a bit? Or come inside with you?”  
  
He’s conflicted. Jeremy’s been such a stalwart mate thus far, and he’s not sure he can handle stepping into that room alone. But, there’s still this part of him that thinks, probably unfairly, ‘If I break down in there, I wouldn’t want Clarkson to witness it.’  
  
He waffles for a bit, then realizes, “You must be starving. See if you can find the café or something, somewhere you can get something to eat.”  
  
James can see the other man hesitate before agreeing. “You’ll call me with any news? Or if you need me?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Jeremy nods, satisfied. He shifts his weight, preparing to turn back down the corridor, then stops. With a hand curving around the back of James’ neck, he leans down, pressing their foreheads together. “She’ll be fine, James.”  
  
Lip between his teeth, James nods as well as he can, afraid of the sound that’ll let loose if he tries to speak. With a gentle squeeze of James’ neck, Jeremy lets go, and then James watches him walk down the hallway.  
  
Taking a deep breath, James braces himself for a moment before he pushes open the door.  
  
His sisters sit on either side of his father, flanked by their husbands, holding his hands and talking quietly to him. His brother paces the room uncomfortably, and James wonders how many times Sarah has told him off.  
  
Four expectant heads turn toward him at the sound of the door opening, each with a brief flash of disappointment visible before his dad pushes himself out of his chair. “Thought you might be the doctor,” he explains before holding out his arms.  
  
He’d wanted to be strong, to help hold his father together, but once he’s in his embrace, he’s nothing but a small child again, all his hesitations about physical contact and emotions falling temporarily to the wayside.  
  
“How is she?” he mumbles against the scratchy cotton of his dad’s shirt.  
  
“She could be out of surgery soon. It usually takes three to four hours. We don’t know anything other than that.”  
  
James breathes deeply, the smell of hospital noticeable even over the familiar smell of his dad’s cologne, then finally lifts his head, hands curving themselves around his dad’s upper arms.  
  
“How are you holding up?”  
  
“Been better,” he admits with a wan smile, before releasing James and taking a small step back, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Are the kids here?” he asks the room, meaning his nieces, nephews and their children.  
  
“They’re finding some food,” Jane answers. “We missed lunch.”  
  
“Oh, they might find Jeremy, then,” he replies with a laugh.  
  
“Jeremy drove you here?” Sarah asks, and James thinks he detects a hint of  _something_  in her voice, but decides – if for nothing else but his sanity – that he must be imagining it.  
  
“Yeah. From the airport.”  
  
“That Jeremy’s a good boy,” James’ dad says as he settles back into his chair. “Your mum always says so.”  
  
It seems uncouth to snort in laughter in a hospital waiting room while a loved one is undergoing heart surgery, but he can’t help it. “He sure charmed her when we did the ‘mums’ episode of  _Top Gear_ ,” he agrees before taking the seat next to his brother-in-law.  
  
“How was America?” his brother asks, finally ending his pacing and leaning against the wall.  
  
It was only hours ago, but it feels like the distant past. “No one threw rocks at us this time.”  
  
David smirks. “That’s progress, then.”  
  
“Seriously, though, it was good. It’ll be good telly.” If he’d been asked just four hours ago, he’d have claimed it a horrible, unmitigated disaster, and a serious threat to one of the most important relationships in his life, but he has a new perspective now.  
  
\--  
  
It doesn’t take long for James to wonder how his family has done this all day. His back is sore, his head aches, and his stomach is tied up in knots. And it’s only been thirty minutes.  
  
But, just when he’s about to text Jeremy, a doctor enters the room. He and his family stand in unison and wait in nervous silence.  
  
“The surgery was a success,” she says, and the rest is drowned out by his family’s excited murmuring and a buzzing in his ears.  
  
He tries to listen, catching only bits of information – “long recovery,” “stable,” “only one visitor at a time” – before the doctor leaves, James’ dad on her heels.  
  
His sisters each hug him, and David claps him on the shoulder with a wide smile, and then it’s too much.  
  
“I need some air,” he mumbles. “Be right back.”  
  
Tears of relief wait until he’s halfway to the lift before flooding his eyes and making it more difficult to see. It isn’t until after he finally pushes his way out a side door and into the cloudy world that they finally begin to trail down his cheeks.  
  
He should be elated, celebrating with his family, crying tears of joy together. He wishes he could be that person. Instead, he’s here, unwilling to let anyone see him cry now that the immediate danger has passed.  
  
The tears have just begun to dry when Clarkson barrels through the exit, looking left, then looking right and seeing him. “James.”  
  
“How,” the word comes out in an unrecognizable blubber, so he tries again, “How did you know where to find me?”  
  
“I was with your nephew – Rob? – when his mum rang. Said you’d slipped outside.”  
  
“How’d you know which door, though?”  
  
Jeremy shrugs, as if just knowing how James’ mind works is nothing new to him. And it probably isn’t.  
  
“So, she’s okay?” he asks, hesitantly.  
  
James nods, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to keep the tears from returning.  
  
It doesn’t fool Jeremy; the other man takes a step closer, then holds out his arms, hesitantly, unsure if James will accept the comfort.  
  
There is no question. His body makes the decision before his mind has a chance to object, taking that final step and leaning into the large form in front of him, wrapping his arms around Jeremy’s waist and feeling long arms surround him in return.  
  
James presses his face against Jeremy’s soft jumper, and long, warm arms tighten around him. While his father’s hug had reminded him of childhood, of the easy, undeniable security that comes with being a child of eight, Jeremy’s embrace makes him think of partnership, of commitment.  
  
He thinks briefly about what it’d be like if he could have this all the time, if he could go through life with Jeremy there to have his back, to be with him for the tough decisions, and for him to return the support, but it shoots a painful stab through his heart.  
  
He lets himself take strength from it for a moment longer before standing and wiping his hand across his nose. He ducks his head, uncomfortable again, until a crumpled napkin enters his vision.  
  
“’Sorry, it was in my pocket,” Jeremy explains with a sheepish shrug. “I think it’s from the McDonald’s we went to in Virginia.”  
  
James laughs into the napkin as he blows his nose. “Thanks.”  
  
“S’just a napkin.”  
  
James wipes once more at his nose, then replies, “I wasn’t talking about the makeshift handkerchief.”  
  
Jeremy shrugs uncomfortably, looking down at his foot as he kicks absently at a small stone in the grass. “It’s what mates do.”  
  
They’re both silent for a long moment, until Jeremy looks up. James can tell he’s debating whether to say something. He’s not sure exactly what it is, but he’s sure it’s more than he can handle at the moment.  
  
He wipes at his eyes, searches for something to say. “I don’t want Mum to know she made me cry.”  
  
Jeremy chuckles warmly. “Sorry, mate. It’s obvious to anyone who lo--,” he stops himself, swallows hard, then clears his throat. “She’ll know,” he says instead. “She’s your mum.”  
  
“Jez?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“I’m sorry I was such an arse this morning.”  
  
Jeremy nods, and James knows that – even though things may continue to be awkward between them for a while – they’ll be okay.  
  
“I’m – I’m the one who is sorry. For this whole week. I shouldn’t - I was using your – ” He breaks off and sighs, admitting, “I didn’t sleep with him, James. I couldn’t.”  
  
That wasn’t what James had expected to hear in return. He shrugs and tries to appear nonchalant, the entire time wondering exactly what that means, pushing aside the anxious joy that knowledge brings until he has time to consider it. “Okay.” He nods once. “Good.”  
  
Jeremy nods in response. “I think I’m going to get my fag packet out of the car. Want one?”  
  
James shakes his head. “Mum hates the smell. Jez…you don’t need to stay here. Now that I know everything is going to be all right…. You should go home. You must be bloody exhausted, man.”  
  
Jeremy tries to deny it, but his body betrays him by choosing that time to yawn widely. Both men laugh, then Jeremy says, “I thought I’d stay. Take you home whenever you’re ready.”  
  
“Jez.” James steps closer again, sees for the first time the signs of exhaustion on his friend’s face. He curls his hand around Jeremy’s elbow. “I cannot begin to thank you for everything you’ve done. If you hadn’t – ” he swallows, unable to even begin to articulate, or even imagine, how hard this ordeal would have been if he’d not had Jeremy. “But there’s no need for you to stay. Go home, rest, see your kids. I’ll be here at least another day. I can take the train or, or hire a car.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes. I’m sure.”  
  
“All right.” Then he’s enfolded in Jeremy’s arms again, and the other man is whispering fiercely to him, “If you need anything -  **anything**  - ring me. And I want updates.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
There’s a quick brush of chapped lips against his temple, and then James is alone again.  
  
“I’ll see you in a few days,” Jeremy calls out, walking away, and James knows it’s a promise.  
  
“Yeah.” He starts to open the door, then remembers. “Fuck. Jez!” he calls out.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Fusker – The neighbor who’s been watching him has already dropped him off at home. He and his wife left on holiday right after, so there’s no one to take care of him. I - ”  
  
“I’ll take care of it. I can stop by on my way to the flat and then again tomorrow and until you’re back and make sure he’s fed and watered, and, and – what else do you do for cats?”  
  
James chuckles. “Feeding and watering’ll be enough, Jeremy. Thank you. Do you have your key?”  
  
Jeremy nods then turns toward his car. James finds himself wishing for something else, some other reason to call Jeremy back. Instead, he lets himself watch his friend for a few more seconds, takes a deep breath, and steps back into the hospital.  
  
\--  
  
It’s two more days before his mum is released from hospital. James is the first one at her bedside that morning, and he finds her sitting up in bed, reading a book.  
  
“Hello, Mum,” he says softly as he enters her room. “You look so much better.” He leans down and presses a kiss against her forehead.  
  
“I’m feeling much better,” she says, her voice multitudes stronger than when he spoke to her after surgery.  
  
James pulls a chair closer and drops into it, not quite able to mask his tired sigh.  
  
“You should go home, James. You must still be tired from your trip.”  
  
“I’m fine, Mum. I want to stay until you’re released. I don’t get to see you enough as it is.”  
  
“Too right you don’t,” she replies with a grin. After a moment’s silence, she inquires, in that way all mums have when they know they’re prying into your personal life and they just don’t care, “Sarah told me that Jeremy brought you here.”  
  
James can’t help the pink flush that comes over his cheeks. “Mum.”  
  
“He’s a good boy, that Jeremy. I know he likes to pretend that he isn’t, but I can tell. Mums can always tell.”  
  
James rubs his hand across his eyes and wishes briefly that he were anywhere but here. But then he remembers that he almost lost this remarkable woman. A little gentle ribbing is a small price to pay.  
  
“I know he is, Mum.” He sighs and folds his arms on top of the bed, resting his head on top. “It’s complicated.”  
  
“All right, then.” Then comforting fingers trail through his hair, sweeping the strands away from his face. “This reminds me of when you were a boy. Your hair was so soft and thick. And Jane was always so jealous.”  
  
James appreciates the change in topic, even if this new one makes him flush with a different kind of embarrassment. “Mum….” He protests, weakly. But he doesn’t move.  
  
“Did I ever tell you how I knew your dad was ‘the one’?” His mum asks, continuing to stroke his hair.  
  
“No….” he answers, hesitantly.  
  
“I was visiting a friend in London, and I came down with a horrible cough. It was bronchitis, but, at the time, I didn’t know it. He took two days off from work, drove all the way to London, and took me to a walk-in center. Then he brought me back home and took care of me until I was better.”  
  
He knows what she’s really saying, but instead of protesting once again, he focuses on the important thing. “Dad really loves you.”  
  
She raises her eyebrows. “I know. And he showed me by driving  **all that way**.”  
  
James sits up then, catching his mum’s hand as it drops from his head and enfolding it in his own. “Jeremy will drive a car to another country and back just to see if it drives the same on foreign tarmac.”  
  
She squeezes his hand, and he tries not to notice the relative frailty of her grip. But when she speaks, her tone is as no-nonsense as always. “You are an ungrateful child.”  
  
“Of course I’m grateful for everything Jeremy did for me, and – yes – I made sure to tell him. I – like I said, it’s complicated.”  
  
“If it was just that he’s straight, you would have said so, if only to make me shut up.”  
  
“Mum!”  
  
“It’s true, and you know it.”  
  
It is, and he does. Even in the 80s, when they found out he wasn’t 100% heterosexual, his parents were accepting of his “alternative” lifestyle.  
  
“I know – I know he cares about me. Only…. It’s not like that. I’m his mate. But,” he sighs, “he has a lot of mates.”  _I’m nothing special._  He knows Jeremy went beyond the call for him, but he also knows one other important fact: Jeremy would have done the same thing for any one of the  _Top Gear_  team. Only the small kiss on his temple was something he wouldn’t have done for Iain or Richard or Andy, and that was merely a reaction to the one intimate encounter they’d shared rather than anything else. Actually, if he stops to think about it, he’s not sure Jeremy wouldn’t have done the same to Andy or Richard.  
  
“Well, if you’re sure. I only want you to be happy, James.”  
  
“I know, Mum.”  
  
\--  
  
Nearly three days later than originally expected, James finally returns home to his empty house. Well, almost empty. Jeremy had made good on his promise, and there’s Fusker, standing in the kitchen entry way, giving James his patented ‘I’m angry with you for leaving, so I am going to make both of us suffer by refusing to come close to you’ stare.  
  
“Love you, too, you little shit,” James mutters, not unkindly, as he trudges tiredly to the kitchen.  
  
The cat follows him, tail swishing in annoyance.  
  
He’s exhausted, but even more he’s hungry. It isn’t until he’s in the process of opening the refrigerator door that he remembers it’ll be empty.  
  
But it isn’t. There’s beer in the refrigerator, and a pint of milk for his tea, and a Tesco’s meat pie in the freezer. There’s also a bunch of bananas and two tins of SPAM in the cupboard.  
  
“Oh, Jezza,” he breathes. His eyes well up again, and he scolds himself quietly, “Stupid emotional plonker. Get a hold of yourself. It’s just dinner.”  
  
But it’s not, it’s Jeremy being nice again, and – why couldn’t he just go back to being an insufferable oaf? Why does he have to start making James question everything he knows?  
  
He starts his dinner cooking, opens a beer and heads upstairs, prepared to tackle the mounds of dirty laundry he’d left undone before leaving for America.  
  
The sight that greets him when he steps into his bedroom nearly makes him fumble the beer out of his grasp in shock. Piles of clean, folded (even if it is in an undeniably unique manner) clothes cover his bed, a note lying on top of one stack.  
  
 _James,  
  
Andy had your luggage dropped off at mine. I washed it, along with the rest of the clothes I found. (Don’t worry, being single again has taught me how to properly use the washing machine.) I hope you don’t mind.  
  
I think Fusker missed you. The annoying moggy even deigned to let me pet him.  
  
-Jez_  
  
There’s a plaintive “mrow?” from behind him and, when he turns and drops onto the mattress, Fusker takes two leaps across the room and up to his side.  
  
“Yeah, I missed you, too.”  
  
He needs to thank Jeremy, again, but has had his fill of being sappy for a while, so he pulls his mobile out of his pocket and texts: Home now. Mum’s home, too, and doing well.  
  
The return message comes quickly: Glad to hear it!  
  
James takes a deep breath and composes: I need to thank you properly. For the refrigerator full of food, and the clean clothes, and the continuing existence of my cat. Not to mention everything else. Dinner at mine in a couple days?  
  
The answer makes him smile: Love to.  
  
\--  
  
James stands in front of his clothes cupboard, and tries to pick out a shirt that will make the appropriate statement. Only problem is: he isn’t sure just what he’s trying to say.  
  
He finally settles on his green and orange striped button-down, if only because it isn’t flowers or pink and purple faded rugby, and a newer pair of jeans. It’s not until he’s answering the ringing doorbell that he realizes his big toe is hanging out of a hole in the end of his sock.  
  
When he opens the door, James is struck by how nice Jeremy looks, in a white button-down and tight, dark jeans. He’s unsure if Jeremy’s also trying to make a statement or has just had it drilled into him to not look like a slob at dinner.  
  
“Jez,” he says, holding the door open.  
  
“James.”  
  
Already worried that it’s going to be awkward, James thinks of something to say, but then Jeremy asks about his mum.  
  
“She’s doing really well. I’m going to go see her in a few days, give dad a break from playing nursemaid.”  
  
Jeremy grins. “She driving him crazy?”  
  
James snorts and leads the way to the small kitchen table. “She isn’t allowed to do much of anything. So, Dad’s doing it, and he’s perfectly glad to, and perfectly capable, but he said not five minutes goes by where she isn’t hollering for him to remember to separate the laundry or check the temperature of the chicken before he takes it out of the oven.”  
  
He waits for Jeremy to stop laughing before asking, “Beer?”  
  
“Yes, please.” Jeremy sits at the table. “What are we having?”  
  
“I made us steaks, and I think they’re just about done.” Beer in hand, James touches Jeremy’s shoulder to get his attention. He lets his hand linger a little longer than usual, looks for a reaction. There is none, other than the nod Jeremy gives him in thanks.  
  
James leans over to open the oven door to check if the steaks are ready. They are. They look mouth-wateringly good, in fact.  
  
“Ooh, steak. You sure do know how to thank a man, James.”  
  
“About that, Jezza.” He’s facing away, arranging steaks and sides on two plates. Serious conversations are usually easier for him if he can hide.  
  
“No, no. No, James. You’ve said thank you already. I know you appreciate it, and that’s the end of it.”  
  
“If that’s the end of it, does that mean I have to eat your steak as well?”  
  
“Oh, no, I’ll eat your food, James. Don’t you worry about that.”  
  
James sets both plates down with a gentle thump and takes the seat opposite Jeremy. “My mum thanks you as well.”  
  
“Jaaames! Stop it.”  
  
“You didn’t say anything about my mum. Oh, I forgot.” He gets up from the table and pulls something out of the cupboard. “She made you a fruitcake. Well, strictly speaking,  **Dad**  made it, with her sitting there, double-checking his measurements and shouting instructions.” He hands the wrapped package to Jeremy.  
  
He accepts the package almost reverently. “Tell her I appreciate it.”  
  
“You might want to wait until you taste it,” James snorts. “Find out how good Dad is at following directions.”  
  
Jeremy smiles. “I appreciate the sentiment regardless.”  
  
James thinks about what his mum had said from her hospital bed about knowing how his dad was the one. He just wishes it were that easy with him and Jeremy, that the lines between friendship and more weren’t so hard to navigate.  
  
“Andy said you drove the new Ariel Atom today,” Jeremy says as he cuts into his steak.  
  
“I did. It’s utterly ridiculous. I  **adored**  it.”  
  
Jeremy grins happily. “Isn’t it, though? You ruined my joke, though. I was going to say ‘I know Andy was lying because your face isn’t ruined.’”  
  
“I’m telling you, that tiny piece of Perspex makes a hell of a difference. It wouldn’t seem like it, but it does. Well, that and: My face wasn’t as flabby as yours to begin with.”  
  
Jeremy laughs so hard tears come to his eyes. “Wait, wait,” he wheezes, pulling out his mobile. “I need to write that down.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“So you can make that same joke, at my expense, in front of millions of people.”  
  
James smiles down at his food, chases a piece of broccoli around his plate with his fork. “I chickened out, though. On the motorcycle race.”  
  
Jeremy looks up from his note taking. “Stig?”  
  
Looking up with a grin, James answers, “Tiff. Put him in my – ”  
  
“In the pink and purple monstrosity you call a jumper?” At James’ nod, he admits excitedly, “That’s genius. Whose idea was that?”  
  
James shrugs. “Mine.”  
  
“Brilliant. I wasn’t lying the other day. Suggesting we hire you was definitely one of my better ideas.”  
  
James swallows. “And not a day goes by that I’m not grateful, Jez.”  
  
Jeremy smiles. After a moment, that smile turns mischievous. “T’would be better if we could teach you to drive, though.”  
  
“Oi. Anyway, if I  **‘could drive’** , there wouldn’t have been a reason for the Tiff joke. And my doing a Power Test would be exactly the same as you or Richard doing one.”  
  
“True.”  
  
“Plus, who was the fastest around the track in Virginia?”  
  
At the word “Virginia,” both men freeze.  
  
“James, I – There’s no excuse for my behavior while we were in America.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Jezza. I’ve already forgiven you.”  
  
“No, no, you’ve forgotten is all. Briefly. Because you had much more important things on your mind, and for a brief time, I wasn’t being an arsehole. What I said, what I  **did** , was petty and hurtful, and I am terribly sorry.”  
  
“Why did you do it, Jez? I mean, I guess I know why.” He takes a sip of his beer to hide his blush. “But I thought we were okay…after, and then suddenly…we’re not, only no one’s told me.”  
  
Jeremy sighs, and scrubs a hand roughly over his face. “On the plane to America, you were sat a couple of rows ahead of me, just across the aisle. For eight hours, every time I looked up, all I saw was the back of your head.”  
  
James frowns. “And you hate my hair?”  
  
“No. Well, yes, but…no, not really. I just couldn’t help thinking about…you know…and by the time the plane landed, I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, and lonely, and that night I went out with the chaps and got drunk, and then – and then I took everything out on you.”  
  
“That is incredibly stupid, Jeremy.” A beat, then he starts laughing and can’t stop. Soon, Jeremy is laughing as well.  
  
“I – I know it’s stupid,” Jeremy says when the laughter finally dies down.  
  
James wants to ask about the man in New York, the man Jeremy nearly slept with, but he isn’t sure he wants to know. And he isn’t sure he has the right to ask anymore.  
  
“I’m sorry for what I said at the airport,” he says instead. “It’s none of my business, what you do. Or who you do.”  
  
“And I shouldn’t have said the things I did in retaliation.”  
  
James shrugs. “They only hurt because they’re true. Not the part of about worrying more about the show than I do you. But the rest of it.”  
  
“I didn’t mean any of it, James. Truly. I just – I  **know you** , and that makes it easy to push your buttons, easy to really hurt you. I took what I know about you and used it against you. There’s no excuse for that.”  
  
James nods once. “Okay. Apology accepted. Topic closed.” He gets up out of his seat. “Done with dinner?”  
  
\--  
  
James sits in front of his movie collection, flipping through the titles and trying to find something Jeremy will want to watch. “The new  _Star Trek_  reboot thingy?” he asks, finally.  
  
“Sure. I haven’t seen it, yet.”  
  
“I’m getting a beer. Want one?  
  
“Do you have to ask?”  
  
When he returns from the kitchen, he walks behind the back of the sofa to set Jeremy’s beer on the end table. As he passes by, he trails his hand along the back of the cushions, grazes Jeremy’s neck. He leaves his hand there, just pressed against Jeremy’s warm skin, as he leans closer and sets down the bottle.  
  
Jeremy shivers, his shoulders reaching toward his ears.  
  
“Cold?” James asks.  
  
“You’re touching the back of my neck, James. Tickles.”  
  
“Oh.” He pulls his hand back, shoves it in his pocket. “Oh, sorry.”  
  
\--  
  
About an hour into the movie, James steals the pillow and blanket from the armchair in the corner. He tosses the pillow next to Jeremy’s thigh and lays his head on it, so close to the side of Jeremy’s leg that he swears he can feel the heat radiating from it. Curled up in the fetal position with his feet hanging off the end of the sofa, he pulls the blanket up and over himself and sighs quietly.  
  
“I’m sorry. Am I keeping you awake?” Jeremy teases.  
  
“No. Just getting comfortable.”  
  
Lying here like this, he’d make a wonderful armrest. But Jeremy’s arm stays resolutely where it is.  
  
\--  
  
He is half asleep when the movie ends. The next thing he’s aware of is Jeremy getting off the sofa and walking toward the DVD player.  
  
“I like Original Spock better,” Jeremy proclaims.  
  
“Me too,” he answers sleepily. “This Kirk is rather attractive, though.” He wants to take the words back as soon as they slip out.  
  
“Yeah,” Jeremy answers hesitantly. “Yeah, he is.”  
  
“Ready for bed?” James asks. “I – I mean – ”  
  
Jeremy doesn’t acknowledge James’ slip, merely nods and follows him up the stairs.  
  
James figures he can handle one last-ditch effort, one final attempt to ascertain Jeremy’s true feelings for him. Just before Jeremy steps into the guest room for the night, James stops him and pulls him into a hug.  
  
Jeremy returns the embrace carefully, nothing like the way he’d held him outside the hospital. The difference is acute.  
  
“Okay?” Jeremy asks.  
  
James pulls back, folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands into his armpits to stop them reaching out again. “Yeah. Of course. Just, you know, wanted to – ”  
  
Jeremy holds out a hand to stall him. “Good night, James.”  
  
“Night, Jez.”  
  
His last thought before drifting off to sleep is, ‘I guess mums aren’t always right.’


	5. Chapter 5

He and Jeremy don’t see each other again until two nights before they’re scheduled to leave for the Middle East. At the suggestion of some of the younger, less lazy members of the crew, they’re doing a weak version of a pub crawl – getting some of their less decorous tendencies out of their system before traveling to a faraway, strange land – and ending, as is their custom, at James’ local.  
  
“Where do you think we’re going, mate?” Richard asks. He’s twirling his wedding ring on his finger in a repetitive motion that belies the relaxed posture he’s taken in the booth.  
  
“I dunno. How much has Jeremy pissed off Andy this series?” Both men’s eyes widen simultaneously.  
  
“Oh, god,” Richard cries. “We’ve actually been drafted without our knowledge.”  
  
James snorts into his beer. “That doesn’t seem like something Health and Safety would approve.”  
  
“Not to mention: who’d want Jeremy on their side with a gun?”  
  
James begins to laugh so loudly that Jeremy gets up from his chair three tables over and makes his way to their booth. There’s a hitch evident in his step, a sure sign that his hip is bothering him again.  
  
How long will he and Jeremy be physically capable of continuing  _Top Gear_  without causing permanent damage to their bodies? It’s a question he asks himself at least twice a shoot.  
  
A heavy, sweaty arm is flung across his shoulders as Jeremy sidles up next to him. He can’t help but lean into it just a bit, subtly enough to not be detected by Richard, but probably noticeable to Jeremy. “What are you two boys laughing about?”  
  
“Our mortality,” James answers, sending Richard into a fit of tipsy giggles.  
  
“The wisdom of taking this sideshow to the Middle East, then,” Jeremy says with understanding.  
  
“C’mon,” Richard argues between giggles. “It’ll be brilliant.”  
  
“Until we’re beheaded on the internet, I’m sure it will be.”  
  
James takes notice of the fact that Jeremy’s arm is still around his shoulders.  
  
“You’re not scared, are you, Jez?” James asks, momentarily serious. He looks up at Jeremy towering over him and searches the other man’s face for clues. He’s not sure if Jeremy is hiding what he’s feeling or he’s just that useless at reading others’ faces.  
  
Jeremy finally sits, collapsing into the booth next to James, leg angled in a way that presses his knee against James’. “You want the truth, James?”  
  
He considers it. “Yes.”  
  
Jeremy blows a stream of air out his lips. “Bloody terrified.”  
  
“You could have said ‘no.’”  
  
Jeremy looks at him knowingly. “Like you did for the North Pole?”  
  
James ducks his head in understanding.  
  
“Be the one who ruined it? No. Everyone was keen on the idea. Anyway, I know it’ll be fine in the end, and I’ll be glad I did it.”  
  
There it is. That thin veneer of false bravado. Perhaps he can read Jeremy better than he thinks.  
  
“It will be fine,” Richard declares, and James can tell that the youngest of their trio truly believes it, no matter how nervous he is. And why shouldn’t he? Hadn’t he experienced the worst incident of all of them and come out better on the other side?  
  
“Clarkson!” Andy calls from across the room, disturbing their spilling of confidences. “We need to go over this schedule.”  
  
“Ja, mein Herr,” Jeremy grumbles. As he gets up from their table, he squeezes the back of James’ neck, causing a shiver to break out down his spine. “Don’t have too much fun without me, chaps.”  
  
James and Richard both watch Jeremy walk away. Then Richard turns to him and observes, “Looks like you and Jeremy made up.”  
  
“Yeah. He – when my mum was in hospital, Jeremy went above and beyond. And – and then we talked a bit. Things are much better.” More confusing than ever, but much better.  
  
Richard smiles knowingly. “Mindy said he was a rock after my crash.”  
  
“He was. And not only to her.” He can’t quite look at Hammond when he says this.  
  
“It feels…weird…to say sorry for that, but: Sorry, mate.”  
  
James glances at him and quirks a smile. “Just never do it again.”  
  
“No plans to, believe me.”  
  
James dips his finger in the condensation left on the table by his beer glass and smears it along the table in random lines. “Do – Has Jeremy ever admitted that to you before? Being scared?”  
  
“Never. Not like that, anyway.”  
  
“Is it, do you think, that he’s never been scared, or he’s just always kept it inside?”  
  
“You think we should be worried?”  
  
James looks up from his invisible doodling. “I’m not sure I should be the one responsible for evaluating others’ mental states.”  
  
“Neither should I be, actually.”  
  
Both men’s gazes travel in sync to the table where Andy and Jeremy are now talking. “If there were anything to be worried about regarding Jeremy, Andy would know,” James says confidently.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
\--  
  
When it doesn’t appear as if Jeremy and Andy’s tête-à-tête will ever end, James and Richard appropriate the empty darts board in the back room.  
  
“How much more could they have to talk about?” Richard asks, frustrated. “We’ve been planning this trip for months, and Jeremy’s supposed to be in the dark about most of it.”  
  
James isn’t so sure the conversation was still business when he and Richard had left it. The way Jeremy had kept glancing around the room and leaning in closer than usual when he spoke made it seem like somewhere along the line it had become more personal.  
  
Maybe he and Richard had been right to worry about Jeremy?”  
  
“Jezza probably came up with a great prank he wants to play on me, and he wants Andy’s help in executing it,” he says instead, not wanting to worry Richard further. “Hand grenades under my bonnet or something.”  
  
Richard snorts in surprise, his throw splaying wide of the board.  
  
“Ha!” James taunts.  
  
They’re in the midst of an argument about whether James making Richard laugh constitutes interference, meaning he should get another turn, when Jeremy walks through the doorway.  
  
He settles into a chair, arms crossed over his chest, and watches their game.  
  
“All right, mate?” Richard asks.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Want to play?” James offers. “We can start over. Richard here is claiming incompetence – I’m sorry, I mean ‘interference.’”  
  
Jeremy shrugs. “Sure.”  
  
It becomes clear very quickly that Jeremy, usually an adequate shot, had done more than talk with Andy. His accuracy makes James want to question just how many dartboards Jeremy is seeing at one time.  
  
He’s in the middle of a silent philosophical argument with himself about the morality of placing bets on a darts game when one friend is completely hammered, when Jeremy wraps an arm around Richard, swaying a bit in his attempt to hold himself upright.  
  
“Steady on, mate.” Richard says, looking at James for help. James just grins.  
  
“Hamster,” Jeremy begins. “Did you know that James here - a long, long time ago – he used to fuck other men? Or maybe get fucked by other men, I’m not really sure the spe-specifics.”  
  
The color drains from James’ face; his hands form into tight fists, his fingernails dig into his palms.  
  
Richard looks at James before answering Jeremy, apology on his face on Jeremy’s behalf. “I did know that. The more important question is: Does James want you asking people that?”  
  
“What?” Jeremy flaps a hand in James’ direction. “Of course not. He wouldn’t want to actually share something personal about himself.”  
  
“Right.” Richard lifts Jeremy’s arm off of him and steps away. “I’m going to take a slash, give you an opportunity to apologize. James, you need to get away from this oaf, I’ll be sat at our table when I’m done. And I’ll even hit him if you ask me to. No questions asked.”  
  
James doesn’t waste any time once Richard has left the room. “Clarkson. What are you playing at?”  
  
Realization dawns in Jeremy’s eyes. And what looks like regret. “I just – just wanted to know, you know? Find out for m-, for you if you…. You could start dating guys again. If you wanted,” he stumbles. “I – I shouldn’t have asked like that. I re – ” he hiccoughs. “…Realize that now.  
  
“Is that – that wasn’t what you were talking to Andy about for the past hour, was it?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jeremy nods, smiling as if he’s done something worthy of praise. “He’s okay with it, too.”  
  
“Jeremy.” James rubs a hand over his tired eyes. “How can it be so difficult sometimes to differentiate between whether you’re trying to be kind or horrid?”  
  
“I – I honestly didn’t mean to upset you, James.”  
  
“I’d better get you home before you ask something else embarrassing,” he suggests. “You spanner.”  
  
\--  
  
Jeremy’s arm finds its way around James’ shoulder again on their walk to James’. He tries not to read anything into it, remembers the way he’d done the same to Richard earlier, and the way he’d given Andy a half-hug while murmuring something to him on their way out the door.  
  
Inside the house, Jeremy doesn’t let up physical contact with James, leaving one hand on his shoulder to support himself as he unties and removes his shoes.  
  
“All right?” James asks when Jeremy nearly trips over his own shoe.  
  
“Fine. Ooh! You’ve got the Scalextric track set up!” he says, catching sight of the track woven under and around the piano. James had set it up earlier in the week for him and Simmy to do some testing for a possible  _Man Lab_  episode and hadn’t got around to putting it away. “Up for a race?”  
  
He’s not, he’d much rather climb into bed, but James agrees and pulls out a box of cars from next to the sofa. “Choose your weapon, Clarkson.”  
  
Unsurprisingly, Jeremy chooses a Bugatti Veyron, whilst James sticks to a Porsche 911.  
  
Grunting, Jeremy lies on his side next to the track, head propped up on his hand. He looks up, grinning, and says, “Make this a fair fight, May. Get down here.”  
  
“Just because you’re an old man up past his bed time,” James argues even as he’s in the process of lying down next to Jeremy, heads nearly together, “shouldn’t mean I have to level the playing field.”  
  
They race three 4-lap races, each one almost identical to the one before it. They trade the lead back and forth until Jeremy surges ahead. Just before flying off the track and into the leg of a chair.  
  
“Fuck!” he exclaims after James’ third win.  
  
“You’re taking too much speed into that final corner, Jeremy. A Bugatti Veyron taking that corner at that speed would be, proportionally, like a – mmph –” James’ sentence ends when his lips are taken in a powerful, if clumsy, kiss.  
  
He’s pushed gently to his back, where Jeremy wastes no time hoisting that big body on top of him, pressing him back into the carpet.  
  
Jeremy pulls back long enough to proclaim, “God, you’re sexy when you talk like that.”  
  
James’ fingers find Jeremy’s hair and bury themselves in the damp curls. Jeremy’s weight on top of him is glorious, masculine. He spreads his legs, catching Jeremy’s hips between his knees, allowing their cocks to fall together.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispers as Jeremy breaks off the kiss to nibble down his neck.  
  
“Mmmm,” Jeremy agrees, thrusting his hips slightly, causing both of them to moan in pleasure.  
  
 _What happens after this?_  The thought creeps into his mind, pushing aside his lust. He tries to ignore it, tries to enjoy what’s happening to him now, never mind the future, but it just remains. Mocking him.  
  
“Jez. Jez, stop.”  
  
Jeremy stops immediately, rising up onto his knees, resting one hand on James’ hip. “Are you okay? Did – did I hurt you?”  
  
“No. No, I’m fine.” He takes a deep breath. “Jeremy, you’re drunk. And horny.”  
  
“Yes,” Jeremy agrees without hesitation, nodding his head.  
  
“I – Has anything changed since…since before?”  
  
Jeremy frowns. “Not for me.”  
  
“Not for me, either. Jeremy, I’m sorry. I want to do this, please don’t think I don’t. But I just – I just can’t. I’m sorry. And if I – if I…led you on or….”  
  
“No. Don’t think that. My mistake.” Jeremy tugs at his hair. He mumbles incoherently; the only word James recognizes is “Andy.”  
  
Eventually, Jeremy pushes himself to his feet. “I should leave.”  
  
“Jeremy, no. It’s – ” he sits up and glances at his watch. “It’s 2:00 in the morning and you’re drunk. Sleep it off in the guest room.”  
  
“I – yeah. Sorry. I – good night, James.” And with that, Jeremy practically runs up the stairs.  
  
James lies there until he no longer hears the sounds of Jeremy getting ready for bed. Then, with a sigh, he leverages himself off the floor and makes his own way upstairs. Alone.  
  
He can’t sleep, can only remember the feel of Jeremy on top of him, a nearly-identical cock pressed up against his own, that large hand covering his hip.  
  
If they’d continued, it would have ended in disaster, James knows, putting the Middle East shoot into turmoil worse than anything they experienced in America. Even worse than the time he almost got his friends killed with his incendiary slogan and dead battery. The Middle East certainly isn’t the place to be having a row.  
  
But, before it all ended in disaster and possible death, wouldn’t it have been wonderful? Jeremy’s lips tasting his skin, his mouth wrapped around Jeremy’s cock, Jeremy’s fist twisting his hair.  
  
He can’t help it. His hand slips under the elastic waistband of his boxers, finds his cock. As he pumps his fist, he can’t help but remember the way Jeremy smells – manly but clean, like fags and petrol and sweat – the way his long fingers indent James’ skin when he squeezes, the way he enjoyed pleasuring his lovers, finding a better use for his big gob.  
  
He wishes life were simple, wishes he could be happy with nothing but sex and friendship from the other man, but in the end he’d be miserable.  
  
He comes quickly, soundlessly, joylessly, smearing come on his boxers. Sighing, he gets out of bed and slips on a clean pair.  
  
It’s a long time before he can sleep, and his dreams are full of Jeremy.  
  
\--  
  
Iraq. They’ve landed in bloody Iraq. Jeremy was right to be scared.  
  
Jeremy’s ideas are atrociously bad sometimes, but James knows that in this situation, when they’re trying to form a plan in this dangerous country, his opinions should be seriously considered. He’s a brilliant man when he isn’t more concerned about being entertaining or controversial, and he has their best interests – and the show’s – at heart. So, finding no issues with his route suggestion, they set out for Bethlehem. Sort of.  
  
When Richard pushes Jeremy’s car around the corner to check for ambushes, James sits in his car, silently fuming on Jeremy’s behalf. It may be stodgy of him, but he isn’t fond of his mates being put in real danger just for a laugh. This, violence in the Middle East, isn’t something the producers can control like blocking off a highway or pushing Richard’s car down a cliff when it’s unsafe for him to drive it that way.  
  
But just a few minutes later, when James’ BMW packs it in and Jeremy cracks jokes, he forgets a bit of his indignation.  
  
“This has filled me with a sense of relief,” Jeremy says after pointing out the Opel Astra backup car. “Because we were gonna leave him, and he would have been – ” he cuts out to simply mouth the word ‘beheaded,’ “but now we can go, knowing he’s going to be okay.”  
  
James assures them he’ll be better off without them.  
  
But Jeremy looks at him for a long moment after saying good-bye. The eye contact becomes uncomfortable after a moment, and James has to look away. Never before has Jeremy had any reservations about his decision to leave either him or Richard – or both of them – behind.  
  
 _Is he that worried about me? Is it just his fears about being in the Middle East at all coming to the forefront?_  
  
As James – getting some rather unexpected help from a gaggle of street urchins – works on his BMW, Jeremy’s face won’t leave his head. And still after he’s driven away and broken his car again mere minutes later.  
  
His production team finds him a workshop and they make plans to go there immediately. But James has a request.  
  
“Actually, I’d – can we stop off at the hotel for just a few minutes? I know it’s going to cost us time, but – ”  
  
“Yeah, course we can,” Phil responds.  
  
James nods his thanks, and apologizes for the delay.  
  
“This place is fucking scary, James. Whatever anyone wants to feel safer, or – anything, that’s what we’re here for. Don’t hesitate to ask.”  
  
He checks in when he arrives, on the off chance that he’ll get back in time to actually use the room. Looking longingly at the bed, he tosses his bag onto it, then steps out into the hall and knocks on the door to what he’s been told is Jeremy’s room.  
  
The other man takes awhile to answer the door, and James is about to walk away when it finally opens. There’s weariness on Jeremy’s face that eases when he sees James.  
  
“Not beheaded on the internet, then?” he asks, opening the door wider in invitation.  
  
It’s then that James knows he’s made the right decision coming here first. The first thing out of Jeremy’s mouth (though a joke) was about James’ well being.  
  
Before he asked about the car, he asked about James. That’s unprecedented enough to be meaningful.  
  
“I still have my head. And we got the car working again.”  
  
“Good. It’s bad form to need the backup car this early in the challenge. You have plenty of time to fail.”  
  
“And then it died again.”  
  
Jeremy chuckles. “May,” he tsks.  
  
“We found a workshop, and we’re going to try to mend it. I just – I only wanted to let you know, before I disappeared again. And it doesn’t look like I’ll make dinner. I’ll be lucky if I make breakfast, actually.”  
  
“All right. Er, before you go….” He walks to the dresser, and picks up a bunch of flowers, then holds them out to James, eyes on the carpet.  
  
“What’s this?” James asks, confused.  
  
“Your present. Some kid was selling these on the side of the road.”  
  
“You bought me flowers?” Not only was it too early in the trip to be buying each other gifts, this went against their past form gift-giving. It wasn’t going to cause James more problems that it was worth, it wasn’t presented as a joke on camera, and they were bloody flowers. “Why’d you buy me flowers, you berk?”  
  
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. Jeremy’s face falls briefly before he mumbles something about mistaking them for one of James’ shirts.  
  
“All right. Well, thank you.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
James tries and fails to think of something to say to fix whatever it is he’s done, but as usual, he’s clueless. “Ten pounds if you get Hammond to eat something disgusting,” he says instead.  
  
At least that makes Jeremy smile a bit.  
  
It’s not until one of the guards mentions the flowers during one of the checkpoints that James remembers he has them. In a last-ditch effort to please Jeremy, he finds a place on his car to put them where they’ll be seen on camera. Maybe Jeremy can see that he appreciates the gesture, however much he doesn’t understand it.  
  
\--  
  
Stressed out from the perilous, and ultimately unsuccessful, drive after trying to make it through Sirnak before nightfall, Jeremy immediately plots revenge for Hammond having the gall to drive a working car.  
  
Whilst the group sits outside enjoying after-dinner fags, Richard mentions again how well his car is holding up.  
  
“May,” Jeremy whispers (or tries to, this is Jeremy after all), leaning in toward James. “Don’t you think the little pikey needs to be taught a lesson in respecting his elders?”  
  
James likes to think of himself as too mature to participate in one of Clarkson’s sabotage efforts, but the truth is simply that he usually finds himself on the wrong side of the fight. Grateful to be included for once, James begins brainstorming ideas.  
  
After nearly everyone else disappears to go exploring or retire to their rooms, Jeremy announces, “We need beer.”  
  
The hotel bar offers shit beer, but it tastes wonderful after their long day.  
  
“What if we – ”  
  
“Nothing that might get him killed, Jeremy,” James interrupts. “This is more dangerous than the Alabam- Alabamians – American southerners.”  
  
“Twice as dangerous, at least,” Jeremy agrees. “Okay. Something just really annoying, then.”  
  
“I know I was really annoyed when you two sabotaged the stereo on my Volkswagen Golf a couple of series ago.”  
  
“May, you’re a genius. Can we find a car stereo somewhere?”  
  
They do, then head down to the underground carpark for some first-class Top Gear-style treachery.  
  
It takes much longer to wire up the secret stereo than James would have guessed. Part of that, of course, is due to Jeremy’s “helping.” Whilst he does seem to have a better grasp on how a stereo is hooked up than how, for instance, a combustion engine works, car repair is still not his forte. Which wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t spend so much time getting in James’ way.  
  
“Jeremy!” he cries, exasperated. “You’ve unhooked the wrong…thing.”  
  
“No, I haven’t. See, if you follow this…oh, fuck. I’ve unhooked the wrong thing. Do I have do hook it up again?”  
  
James can’t help but snort. “Of course you have to hook it up again. You’ve unhooked the ignition. His car won’t start if you don’t.”  
  
Finally, the second stereo is wired to the ignition and  _Genesis_  is in the CD player.  
  
“You two going to be up to any more mischief, or can we hit the sack?” Iain asks.  
  
“We’re all done here,” Jeremy answers. “Thanks, guys.”  
  
Once the cameramen have gone, Jeremy pulls out two bottles of beer from where he’s hidden them behind the back tire of Richard’s car.  
  
“Another?”  
  
“Yes, please.”  
  
Jeremy opens the driver’s side door and slides in. With a shrug, James does the same on the other side.  
  
“How’re you holding up?” James asks after a few moments of silence.  
  
“Other than the times I’ve been sure my heart’s pounding so hard it’s about to explode in my chest?”  
  
James smiles wryly. “Yeah, other than that.”  
  
“I’m doing all right. It has – admittedly – been a lot of fun. This was fun,” he adds, swinging his beer around him to indicate their vandalism.  
  
“You’re always at your best when you’re ruining one of us,” James admits. “I’m just glad it wasn’t me this time.”  
  
“Well, this was a much more sophisticated prank than usual, thanks to you.”  
  
“See? You should always want me on your side.”  
  
Jeremy leans his head back against the headrest and murmurs, “I do always want you on my side, May.”  
  
James’ stomach clenches. He’s not sure what to say, so he resorts to joking, “I can tell by the horse’s head in my tent and the cheese grated over my engine.”  
  
Jeremy tilts his head in James’ direction and smiles beautifully. “I can’t help it that, above all else, I excel at making quality telly. I give the people what they want, James.”  
  
“How about the absolute joy you showed when I was stuck with you on the way to the North Pole? Oh, wait, that wasn’t joy, that was something else entirely.”  
  
“Come on. We had a good time. Didn’t we?” It sounds like genuine hurt in Jeremy’s voice.  
  
“If I were given the opportunity to do it again, I would not,” James answers. “But, I can’t say it was all bad.”  
  
Jeremy looks askance at his beer bottle. “That wine you brought was excellent. Much better than this beer.”  
  
James can’t help but remember the absolute joy and pride he’d felt when he’d pulled that bottle of wine out from behind him and Jeremy had just beamed with happiness. He wishes there were some way he could make Jeremy that happy again. He doesn’t suppose that ruining Richard’s car is enough.  
  
James watches Jeremy peel the label back on his beer bottle. He’s quiet, and James wonders whether he’s thinking about his kids, or the rest of their Middle East trip, or maybe remembering the picnic they had in the Arctic.  
  
“I, um, Andy has this friend,” Jeremy begins hesitantly, “his name is Robert. Went to Repton. I’ve met him before, but he was Andy’s age, so I didn’t know him well.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I – when we get back, Andy’s setting us up.”  
  
James frowns. “Setting you up for what?”  
  
The other man sets his beer down between his knees and grips the steering wheel. “Setting us up. On a date.”  
  
James blinks quickly. “Oh, I – Oh.” There’s a whirl of emotions flooding through James so powerful that his vision goes blurry. Rubbing at his eyes, he takes deep, slow breaths.  
  
“Did you – was that what you were talking to him about the other night at the pub?”  
  
“Yeah. It’s been – this has been eating away at me for, for a while, and I – I just needed to talk to someone about it.”  
  
James feels a twinge of regret that he couldn’t be Jeremy’s sounding board, but of course the other man would want to talk to someone about it that he didn’t have such a complicated relationship with.  
  
“I didn’t – I didn’t realize.”  
  
Finally, Jeremy looks at him. His cheeks are pink, whether with bashfulness or shame James doesn’t know, and James makes a mental promise to himself to proceed with caution and respect no matter how much this all hurts him.  
  
Jeremy asks, “Didn’t realize what?”  
  
“That – that you were thinking of starting to date men. I thought – ”  _I thought you weren’t ready for a relationship at all right now, man or woman, but now I realize: It was me you didn’t want a relationship with._  “I don’t know what I thought, Jez.”  
  
Jeremy sighs and presses his hand against his forehead, rubbing wearily. “It’s something I’ve always known I wanted, but – but I did what I was supposed to do and pushed those desires aside, dated women, got married. And when that didn’t work, I got married again. And, I don’t know, I’m 50 and I’m single, and – I might as well give it a try. Maybe it’s what I’ve been looking for.”  
  
 _And what was I? Practice without consequences?_  
  
James takes a deep breath, prepares himself to get through this without stumbling. “I’m really happy for you, Jezza. And, I hope Wilman’s put some thought into this. If this Robert treats you badly, he’s going to have me and Richard to answer to.”  
  
Jeremy huffs a laugh. “Andy too, believe me.”  
  
“I wish – ”  
  
Jeremy turns in his seat, hooks his arm around the headrest. “What do you wish, James?”  
  
“No, it’s…. I just – if you wanted to talk about this with someone who – who has a bit of experience? I’m here. I mean, everything I know about trying to…woo…another man is probably hopelessly out of date, if it was even timely then. But, surely some things haven’t changed?”  
  
Jeremy’s face relaxes, and James realizes how much this has been bothering him, and for how long. “Thank you, James. I really appreciate it.”  
  
James can only nod, afraid of what might escape if he opens his mouth.  
  
“I don’t know what I want, James, except…I want to be happy. I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter.”  
  
“Whatever it is that you want, Jeremy? I hope you find it.”  
  
 _Even if it isn’t me._[  
](http://topgearslash.livejournal.com/1826250.html#cutid1)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of what happened here I got from the Middle East commentary. I also may be remembering it not entirely correctly, even though I only saw it a few weeks ago.

Desert sneaking. It’s exactly as difficult as James had suspected when Jeremy first said it. However, it is bloody beautiful. And he’s quite proud of his Africa Corp car.  
  
It is only inevitable that someone’s car would break down and they’d need to be left behind. Why does it have to be Richard, though, leaving him alone with Jeremy with only conversation to distract them from boredom?  
  
When it begins to get dark, they stop, and make camp.  
  
“I’ll build a fire,” James volunteers, searching for anything to keep him busy.  
  
Jeremy insists on helping, which mostly consists of tossing a few sticks into the fledgling fire and asking, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” every two minutes. It could start a row, but James merely ignores him. He has a lot of practice at that.  
  
Eventually, they end up stretched out in front of the fire, propped up on their elbows, smoking on the hookah. It reminds James of the way they had lain in front of the Scalextric track before Jeremy had kissed him. Was that really only a few days ago?  
  
“It’s getting dark fast,” James murmurs, looking up at the sky.  
  
“Yeah. I wonder how Richard’s getting on with his car repairs.”  
  
James is wondering as well. He’d ask, but he knows no one will tell him. That’s the kind of thing they’re supposed to find out on camera. Knowing ahead of time takes away the magic. If he’s hurt or going to be delayed longer than they’d suspected, then they’ll be told.  
  
“Can I ask you something, James?”  
  
James takes a drag from the hookah. “I guess.”  
  
“Why did Richard know that, you know, that you’d been with men before?”  
  
“Is that what you’re really asking? Or do you just want to know why he knew before you?”  
  
“Both. But – did you think I’d not be okay with it?” Jeremy turns his head in James’ direction, but James can’t manage to return the gaze.  
  
“Bit, yeah.”  
  
“James, that’s….” When Jeremy trails off, James finally turns to look at him. He watches him swallow, then drop his head. “You were probably right.”  
  
“Jez?”  
  
“I mean – don’t…. I never -  **never**  would have stopped being your friend, or, or wanted you to leave the show. And if anyone had said anything about it, they’d have had me to answer to.”  
  
“You’d have just taken the piss at every opportunity.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
James snorts, and Jeremy looks at him in confusion. “So, exactly what you’ve done the entire time I’ve known you.”  
  
Jeremy chuckles. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  
  
“Is – Jez, is it….” James tugs at his hair. “Is it because you were ashamed of your own feelings?”  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe? Or maybe I’m just an arsehole.”  
  
“Could be.” James nods absently for a few seconds before turning and grinning at Jeremy.  
  
“Fucker.”  
  
James snorts. “Sometimes.”  
  
Jeremy begins to laugh, and eventually his head falls against James’ shoulder. James lets his head rest against the top of Jeremy’s, for just a moment, before pulling away.  
  
“I wish you’d talk to me, James,” Jeremy says finally. “Like you do with Richard. I understand why you don’t, I guess I do, but - ”  
  
James sighs. “It isn’t – I didn’t tell him and not you because I trust him more. He told me something embarrassing about his past, and I, in turn, told him that. Which he argued didn’t count because it’s not actually something to be embarrassed about.”  
  
“Did he make you tell him something else that was embarrassing?”  
  
“No, because Richard’s not a cock. Usually. He did, however, try to convince me that I should tell you.”  
  
“But you didn’t?”  
  
“No. If – I was with Sarah. What I’d done before – why should it matter?”  
  
Jeremy is quiet for a long, long time. Eventually, James whispers, “Jeremy? You awake?”  
  
“Yeah. Just thinking.”  
  
“Always a scary thought.”  
  
“Hmm. Maybe – maybe if I’d known, before, maybe – Never mind. Forget it.”  
  
“Jez?”  
  
“No, it’s not important. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
James wants to argue, wants to know what it is Jeremy is thinking, but then the other man says, “You should start dating again.”  
  
“Oh, what are you, my mum?”  
  
“I mean it. You could, if you wanted, you could find a nice man. There’s no reason you can’t, James. Or, if that’s not what you want anymore, you know…. Another woman.”  
  
“It’s not that simple, Jeremy.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
James shifts uncomfortably in the sand. “It’s not that easy for me to just…find someone. You’re – you’re the brilliant Jeremy Clarkson, you don’t understand, but – ”  
  
“James,” Jeremy barks sharply. “You’re amazing, and interesting, and intelligent. And attractive. All you’d have to do is put yourself out there, just a bit, and you’d have women dropping their knickers. Or – or men doing whatever the equivalent is.”  
  
James starts to argue, but then Iain comes back with the camera, saying “Richard’s on his way,” and begins filming again.  
  
James misses the warmth emanating from Jeremy’s body when they sit back up to greet Richard’s car.  
  
He’s so distracted by their conversation that the best thing James can think of to say is the inane, “It’s a tent! Moving by itself.”  
  
James is relieved to see Richard and get a bit of a break from all the annoying personal questions. Richard joins them at the fire, and they discuss Nativity plays and a bit of their personal religious beliefs, which James knows is going to get cut.  
  
“I was the front half of the donkey,” Jeremy remembers, “and I was so irritated by it that I took the donkey costume off halfway through so that people could see it was me.”  
  
“And nobody could tell the difference.”  
  
James smiles at the laughter he can hear coming from Jeremy, and the tension he feels disappearing from his own body. It’s amazing how much more normal things can feel after just one joke at his colleague’s expense.  
  
“All right, chaps,” Jeremy announces once it gets late, after complaining for the fifth time how his back and hip are hurting. “I’m turning in. Good night.”  
  
“Night, Jezza,” Richard says.  
  
James manages to catch Jeremy’s eye and give him a small smile that is returned. “Night.”  
  
James turns his attention toward Richard. “What about you, Hammond?”  
  
Richard stands up and rubs at his stomach, grimacing slightly. “I think I’m gonna turn in, too. Once I’ve visited the bog again. In fact – ” suddenly he begins jogging over to where they’ve got their makeshift toilet set up.  
  
James wants to laugh, but he feels for the other man. Usually, he’s the one experiencing stomach issues when they’re overseas.  
  
He climbs into his tent and lies there. Then he tosses, and turns, and lies there some more.  
  
“Sod this,” he mutters. If he’s not going to be able to sleep, he’ll at least do it somewhere where he can see more than the vinyl lining of his tent.  
  
He finds a spot away from the others and spreads out his sleeping bag along the ground then climbs into it. With one arm tucked under his head, he stares at the stars.  
  
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice murmurs above him.  
  
“Hammond? That you?”  
  
“Yeah. You couldn’t sleep, either?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Mind if I - ?” he gestures at the vast emptiness near James.  
  
“Be my guest. How’s the stomach?”  
  
“Ugh. Don’t – don’t even ask.”  
  
James snorts softly. “All right.”  
  
“Mate?” Richard asks after a while. “Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Oh, god, not you, too.” James groans and rolls over onto his stomach. Richard’s similarly ensconced just feet away. “If you must.”  
  
“That night, in the pub, when Jeremy asked me if, you know, if I knew about….”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Did he ever give you an explanation? I mean, I could see how upset you were that he asked that. But, when I talked to him the next day, he said he’d spent the night in your spare room. Why – how’d he manage to weasel his way out of that one?”  
  
James sighs. “He said he, basically, he was testing everyone out for me. Said if I wanted, you know, to start dating men again, that everyone would be okay with it. I only wasn’t angry with him because - ”  
  
“James?” Richard interrupts. “I’m not – I don’t think you were the one – at least not  **the only one**  he was – ” He stops abruptly, clamping his mouth shut. “Never mind.”  
  
“Wait, Hammond. I – I understand that you don’t want to divulge Jeremy’s secrets – at least one of you has that tact – but, but I think I might know this one already.”  
  
“I – do you, does the name Robert mean anything to you?”  
  
“Yes. So, he told you about that, too?”  
  
“Yeah, when I talked to him the day after the pub. It’s why I was wondering what explanation he gave you for asking me…you know.”  
  
James rubs at his face, can hear the sound of sand scratching over his skin. God, he needs a shower. “He only told me about Robert when we were sabotaging your stereo.”  
  
Richard frowns. “I don’t know why he told me about it before he told you. If I had to choose between us, I’d choose the one of us who has had some experience, you know, in this area.”  
  
James picks under his fingernail at the dirt that’s taken up permanent residence since their desert trek began. “It’s – it’s complicated, Hammond.”  
  
“You keep saying that. You – oh god.”  
  
“What?” He feigns ignorance, hoping against hope that Richard doesn’t actually have a clue what has been going on between him and Jeremy.  
  
“You – you two….”  
  
“Us two what?”  
  
“Why you’ve been so…weird…lately, what with all the fighting and…. Something happened between you two, didn’t it?”  
  
James sighs. “Like I said, Hammond, it’s – ”  
  
“It can’t be that fucking complicated, May. Either you two…you know, or you didn’t.”  
  
James buries his face in his hands and wills Richard to go away. It doesn’t work, of course.  
  
Richard just accepts learning this about his colleagues, merely asking, “Then, why…? Why this Robert guy?”  
  
Clearing his throat, James mumbles, “We don’t want the same things. He doesn’t – come on, Hammond. He doesn’t really like me. Not in the way I like him. He just – it was just sex to him. And, that’s fine, but that’s not what I want.”  
  
“That is such bollocks, James.”  
  
“Richard. It’s not – it’s – just trust me.” He trails off, wipes a hand across his nose.  
  
“I think you’re wrong, mate.”  
  
“I’m not. He was talking about sleeping with other people minutes after we….”  
  
The younger man frowns. “That doesn’t seem like the Jeremy I know. Yeah, I know.” He interrupts James’ argument before he can even fully form it. “I wasn’t there – thank god – but…. I think, given some time, he’ll change his mind. I really do, James.”  
  
“Please, Richard. Don’t give me hope. I can’t handle – ”  
  
“You really love him.”  
  
Laying his head against his folded up arms, James nods awkwardly.  
  
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt you, James.”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“Do you need – is there anything I, you know, that I can do?”  
  
James shakes his head vehemently. “I appreciate it, Hammond, but…. I’ve loved Jeremy for years without him feeling the same. I’m fine.”  
  
“Sure. If – if you change your mind, want to talk or, or something….”  
  
“I appreciate it.”  
  
“Right. I’m, er, off to the loo again. And then, you know, maybe I’ll be able to sleep.”  
  
“Good luck with that.” He catches Richard’s eye so the other man can see that he genuinely means that.  
  
“Night, May.”  
  
“Night.”  
  
James rolls onto his back after Richard has left, his head now filled with all sorts of notions. What if Richard was right? And Jeremy decides eventually that James  **is**  what he wants?  
  
He could come home from a long day of filming and curl up with Jeremy on his sofa. Feel the comforting presence of his large, warm body against his own. Those long fingers smoothing his hair away from his face and soothing away his tension.  
  
Long nights of slow fucking, their long legs entwined; Jeremy’s long fingers trailing along his body, working their way inside him.  _Oh, fuck._  His mouth on Jeremy, Jeremy’s mouth on him. He can remember that, the way it felt, the soft wetness of his tongue, his lips curled….  
  
James clenches at his jeans with shaking fingers and tries to push the images that flood his mind out of his head.  
  
Instead, he imagines the snide remarks Jeremy would make every time James wanted to take one of his motorcycles for a ride, or when he’d spend hours in the garage trying to get the little Honda working again. How he can’t stand James’ cat and never lets him explain anything, even when he’s asked a question.  
  
 _I couldn’t be with him. He’d toy with me like Fusker does with a mouse, and then he’d break my heart. It’s better this way._  
  
But having to watch Jeremy with another man. Even the thought sends a pain through his chest. Jeremy laughing, his arm around another bloke – one more handsome and interesting than James – murmuring in his ear; Jeremy’s boyfriend welcome at all of their pub nights; Jeremy stepping away between shots to send nauseating text messages instead of sitting with James and making fun of Hammond; Jeremy regaling them with tales about “My boyfriend this” and “My boyfriend that” and “Doesn’t my boyfriend have the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen?”.  
  
 _Argh. Why does life have to be so bloody painful?_  
  
\--  
  
In hindsight, standing there as they tried to pull Jeremy’s car out of the sand is one of the stupidest things he’s ever done. But, at the time, all he was thinking was how to get him unstuck.  
  
He shouts at Richard to drive, and then there’s the press of towrope across his chest, and the sensation of falling…and then there’s nothing.  
  
When he comes to, there’s a screaming pain in his head, an incredible aching in his back, and four or five strange men standing over him. He recognizes none of them.  
  
“James,” one of them asks. From the medical equipment he is holding in his hands, James assumes he’s a doctor. Immediately after the thought crosses his mind, the man confirms it when he introduces himself.  
  
“How are you feeling?”  
  
“Sick.”  
  
A tall man with a large belly and thinning, curly hair and another man in a floppy hat hold a red bandana over his face to keep the sun and the heat off of him as others help him sit up. He holds back the groan that wants to make its way from his mouth, not wanting to let these strangers know he’s in pain.  
  
Sitting up, hand holding a bandage to the back of his head, he tries to get a glimpse of his surroundings. Miles and miles of gritty sand, blazing sun, and oppressive heat are all he can distinguish. He has a feeling this isn’t home.  
  
“Where are we?” he asks a small, handsome man with long, sort of greasy hair.  
  
“In a desert in Syria,” he answers matter-of-factly.  
  
Why? No one around him looks to be military? Whatever other reason could anyone have for being in the middle of the sodding Syrian desert? And in small convertibles? What kind of idiots was he spending time with?  
  
“Do you know…where we’re going?” the tall man asks, looking concerned.  
  
James wracks his brain, but he has no more of an idea what’s going on than the second he came to. He looks blankly around, finds nothing but more questions on the faces of all these strangers.  
  
He wants to cry. He wants to scream.  
  
He does neither of those things, instead pulls the bandage away from his head and looks at it. Blood.  
  
“Okay, Iain,” the tall man says sharply, and James has the sense that people usually listen to this man. He knows that he would. “Cameras off. We don’t need to film any of this.” He turns toward another man with gray hair who seems to be in charge. “Don’t argue about it, Andy. James wouldn’t – ”  
  
The man called “Andy” holds out his hands. “Jez, I’m with you. Everyone, cameras off. Everyone except Jeremy, Richard and the medical team, go amuse yourselves elsewhere.”  
  
The doctor begins asking him easy questions, such as his name, the date, who the Prime Minister is. Some of them he knows – like his name – but most of the others he doesn’t. The other men – Jeremy and Richard – begin to fill him in on who they are and why they’re all in the middle of the bloody desert. It all sounds a bit farfetched, but there’s nothing but honesty and worry on the others’ faces.  
  
He thinks he can trust them. He supposes he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter.  
  
“So, we present a car show?”  
  
“Yes,” the man who calls himself Richard answers.  
  
“And we’re sneaking across the desert in Syria on our way to Bethlehem?”  
  
“Yes.” He chuckles. “It does all sound unlikely, but I promise you it’s true.”  
  
“And you, Mr. Hammond,” it feels weird to call this man by his first name when he feels like he’s known him for minutes, even though he knows that can’t be true, “I like you?”  
  
Richard smiles wickedly, and James knows he’s missing part of a joke. “I think so.” Then, with a more serious note in his voice, “Yeah, we’re mates. Great mates. Have been for over a decade.”  
  
He turns toward the other man, Jeremy, whom he imagines would be towering over them both if they were all standing. “And you. Do I like you?”  
  
Instead of smiling, Jeremy’s face falls. His nostrils flare as he takes deep breaths. “Sometimes,” he says, finally.  
  
“You two are friends, too,” Richard assures him, elbowing Jeremy none-too-subtly in the ribs. James can’t imagine what all that’s about.  
  
“All right,” Andy says, coming over and kneeling in front of him. “We’re going to take you to hospital and get you checked out.”  
  
James nods, even though he’s not sure he’s being asked permission. But he’ll do anything if it makes these blank spaces in his head not so empty anymore.  
  
They load him up into the back of an SUV that already has the windows covered. Richard comes with him, pats his knee. “You’ll be fine, mate. I know you don’t remember this, but I had a horrible accident while filming a few years ago, couldn’t remember anything, and look at me. I’m fine now.”  
  
James frowns, even though the movement makes his head hurt more. “Why do we do this if we keep getting hurt?”  
  
Richard snorts and squeezes James’ leg. “Because it’s the best job in the world. You’ll remember in a bit. Trust me.”  
  
Before Richard heads back to the rest of their group, he taps on the driver’s window. “Don’t go yet. Just a second.” Then he jogs over to Jeremy and has, from what James can see, a heated discussion with the other man.  
  
Finally, their argument ends, and Jeremy walks stiffly to the back of the SUV. At first, he won’t look at James, but when he finally lifts his head, James is blown back by what he sees there: complete and utter terror, incredible guilt, and desperate fondness.  
  
He curls his hand around James’ ankle, and tries to speak. Finally, he just chuckles without humor and rubs at his eyes.  
  
“Jeremy?”  
  
“I’m sorry, James.”  
  
“Do – do you know something I don’t? Am I going to be all right?”  
  
“Oh, god yes. You’re going to be fine. I promise.” To James’ surprise, the other man actually climbs into the back of the SUV with him, nearly bending his long body in half to do so. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I – Richard made me – and I don’t know what to say. But - You’re going to be fine. Small bump on the head. No worries.”  
  
“Okay. Good.”  
  
Jeremy leans closer and briefly wraps one arm around James’ body, pulling him carefully closer until his face is pressed against the other man’s neck. He smells warm, sweaty, familiar somehow. James knows there’s something important he’s missing here, something he’s not remembering that helps explain why he isn’t bothered by this near stranger pulling him into an embrace.  
  
James returns the hug and murmurs, “It’s all right.”  
  
Jeremy snorts with quiet laughter and pulls away. “There you go, May, always reassuring me, when I should be reassuring you. Anyway,” he climbs awkwardly out of the car. “We’ll come get you as soon as we can.”  
  
“I’ll be looking forward to it.” And he is, already, even though he’s not sure what he’s got himself into.  
  
“Take care of yourself, mate. We need you with us. I – I need you with me.”  
  
James nods, wishes he could say something to make this slightly mad man look a little less anxious. “I – I can’t remember you, but something tells me I feel the same way.”  
  
Jeremy nods then, silently, a small, genuine smile on his face, then closes the door. One last look at James and he walks away.  
  
\--  
  
Within an hour or two, all of James’ memories are intact. All, that is, except for the accident and the events immediately surrounding it. For the most part, they remain lost to the ether. It isn’t that they’re fuzzy or hard to understand, it’s as if his brain is a puzzle with one or more pieces missing.  
  
It’s probably lost in the sofa cushions. Maybe he’ll find it the same time he finds that tenner he lost a few weeks back.  
  
Oh, well. It’s annoying, but it’s nothing that’s going to affect his life.  
  
Andy’s come with him to hospital, and he was grateful for the friendly face as memory after memory came flooding back to him in an exhausting wave. And he’s kept Jeremy and Richard abreast of the situation as well, the phone calls coming further apart and less anxious as it becomes clearer that James’ memory loss is merely temporary.  
  
“Christ, Jez, if you don’t – here, why don’t you just talk to him yourself, then.” Wilman has barely handed his mobile to James before he practically flees the room, cursing Jeremy’s name and mumbling, “I cannot handle that man any longer,” as he goes.  
  
“Hello, Jez,” James chuckles into the mobile.  
  
“You’re really all right, then? Still you? You really remember me?”  
  
James’ grip tightens at the worry in Jeremy’s voice, as if that could make him feel closer. “Yeah. I remember you. Memory wasn’t lost, just temporarily misplaced.”  
  
Jeremy snorts into the receiver. “I – I – I want to take the piss, but I can’t even come up with anything. I’m just really glad you’re, you know,  **you**  still.”  
  
Swallowing hard, James replies, “Well, we can’t have that. You’ve got a reputation to maintain.”  
  
“Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal by the time I see you.”  
  
“And when will that be?” James tries not to sound eager, but he knows he fails.  
  
“Um, we’re about a half hour out, I think. Need to stop for something on our way, so it’ll be a little longer.”  
  
“Oh, lord. What do you have planned?”  
  
“Nothing, nothing, May.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“All right, May, Richard wants to get a move on, so I’ve got to hang up.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Take care. See you soon.”  
  
James sighs when the other end of the line goes dead. “See you soon, Jez,” he murmurs.  
  
\--  
  
Andy warns him about his mates and their dressing in Middle Eastern drag before he leaves the hospital, and it’s a good thing, too. It helps dull the disappointment of not actually being able to see Jeremy’s face. It’s not that he missed the old bastard that much – he’s seen Jeremy so many times over the last several years that he can summon a very accurate depiction of his visage at will – it’s that he wanted another chance to glean what Jeremy is thinking, find out if the little bit James’ brain actually remembers happening is really what happened.  
  
He wants to laugh when he finally catches sight of them, but he doesn’t want to do this over. “What are you two wearing?” he asks, instead, aiming for suspicious rather than amused.  
  
“Well, where’s yours?” Richard asks.  
  
“Very funny.”  _And payment for the memory-loss gags we put you through. Sorry about that, Hammond._  
  
Jeremy tries as well. “Have you left it in there?”  
  
He could play along, but he remembers the worry he heard from Jeremy and wants nothing more than to reassure the other man that he’s fine. “No, I’m better. It’s only a small bang on the head, and I’m mended.” He points at the bandage on his head, which is really only there to keep his stitches from snagging on the car seat. “A small cut, that’s it.”  
  
He can’t stop looking at Jeremy, wishing he could see those blue eyes behind those sodding sunglasses and know what he’s thinking.  
  
“You really are better?”  
  
“Completely.”  
  
“Who am I?” Jeremy asks, hands on his hips.  
  
James pauses, tries to think of something that will tell Jeremy what he means to him and yet not give too much away. Of course nothing exists like that, so he answers, “A big cock.”  
  
“Who am I?” Richard queries.  
  
It’s uncharitable, but his first thought is,  _Right now, you’re an obstruction to my being able to sort the truth out of Jeremy._  Instead, he answers, “Irritating little sod,” which isn’t untrue.  
  
“He’s better,” they decide.[  
](http://topgearslash.livejournal.com/1826753.html#cutid1)


	7. Chapter 7

After filming their gold, Frankincense and myrrh gifts for the baby Jesus, the cameramen begin to pack up.  
  
James touches Jeremy’s arm with the back of his hand. “Can I – can we talk?” he asks softly.  
  
The blue eyes that meet James’ are full of terror. “You all right?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m fine, Jeremy. Promise. Just want to ask you something.”  
  
“Yeah, I – ”  
  
“I’m starving,” a whinging Hammond interrupts. “Does someone want to go find some real food with me? Jezza? James?”  
  
Jeremy stands. “We already ate, Hamster. Some people don’t have the palate of a five-year-old girl. Come on, James.”  
  
“Sorry, Hammond. Tomorrow, maybe,” James offers.  
  
As they leave the dining room, Jeremy pats his jeans pocket. “Fag first?”  
  
“Eh, I – I guess we can - ”  
  
“Never mind. If you’d rather do this than smoke a cigarette, must be important.”  
  
They’re both silent in the lift. James shifts his weight awkwardly on one foot, risks a glance at Jeremy. The other man stands stock-still, hands stuffed in his pockets, nervously nibbling on his bottom lip. Taking a step closer, James bumps elbows with the other man. When Jeremy looks up, James gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile.  
  
The door has just shut behind them with a “snick” when Jeremy asks, “Do you want to leave? Is that it? Things between us are too - too weird, and – ”  
  
“Jeremy.” James closes the distance between them and wraps his hand around Jeremy’s wrist. He can feel the other man’s heart beat race beneath his fingers. “I don’t want to leave.”  
  
“Then – then what?”  
  
“Give me a chance to tell you. All right?” He chuckles warmly then scrubs at his face  
  
Jeremy nods. “It’s just – you look nervous.”  
  
“I need to – I need to ask you something. Because either I’ve got it right now or I had it right before, and I want - I want to be right now.”  
  
“O-Okay.”  
  
With a sigh, he releases Jeremy’s wrist, then steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t – I don’t remember much of the accident, or of anything after it.”  
  
“Is there, you know – is there permanent damage, something – ”  
  
“It’s fine. Don’t worry. The doctor said it’s to be expected. I may never get those minutes back.” He shrugs. “Nothing to worry about. Just how the brain deals with trauma.”  
  
“Well, and you can tell  _The Guardian_  I said this if you want,” he says, stabbing at the air with his index finger, “excuse me if I don’t trust fucking Syrian doctors.”  
  
James lets the jingoism go, knows it’s just Jeremy lashing out because he’s scared. “Andy called a doctor from home and checked. It was one of Hammond’s, actually.”  
  
Jeremy’s eyes briefly fall shut, his lips moving silently. Then, “Good.”  
  
“Anyway, if I can continue?”  
  
Jeremy nods.  
  
“There’s one thing that stuck with me, even though I didn’t understand what it meant at the time. Your face, Jez.”  
  
Jeremy blinks and tilts his head in confusion.  
  
“Let me explain,” James continues before Jeremy can interrupt. “When I – when I came to, I had no memory of who you were, who any of you were, but you -. The way you were looking at me -. It was so familiar, but I didn’t realize why. It wasn’t until I was lying in the bloody MRI machine, trying my damnedest not to move, that I realized.” He pauses, takes a deep breath.  
  
“The way you looked at me, Jeremy. It was the same way you’d looked at Hammond in his hospital bed.”  
  
Jeremy’s arms move suddenly then stop, as if his body can’t help making a motion toward James. “James, I want to say the right thing, but I – I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.”  
  
James lifts his chin, looks Jeremy straight in the eye and says, “You love Richard,” he says.  
  
“Of course I do.” James can see the moment when Jeremy begins to understand. His brow wrinkles and his hands form into fists. “And you didn’t think I loved you?”  
  
Shoulders dropping, James shakes his head sadly. “I didn’t before, no. Sometimes,” he admits, “sometimes I’m not even sure you like me.”  
  
“James, I – ”  
  
“Wait. Just – I know there’s a lot you want to – just wait. Please.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
James exhales, then inhales again deeply. “You love me.”  
  
Apparently deciding the simplest response is the best, Jeremy answers, “Yes.”  
  
James takes another deep breath and lets this one out very slowly before asking, “And – and do you want me?”  
  
“Too fucking right I do. Hence my attempts to get you into bed.”  
  
“I think this is where our signals got crossed before.” Again, James steps forward and takes Jeremy’s wrist in his hand. “No, I mean, do you want to be in a relationship with me?”  
  
Jeremy reaches out toward the blindingly white bandage on James’ head before stopping abruptly. “Are you sure there isn’t any lasting brain damage?”  
  
“Jez – ”  
  
“No, I – of course I do. If you aren’t sure of that, it makes me wonder – ”  
  
James’ heart pounds in his chest. He finally has his answer. “Jez,” he says again, voice shaky. “I thought – thought you just wanted to be…mates who fuck. I – sod this,” he mutters, bringing his hands up to cup Jeremy’s face. The other man’s skin is dry after being in the desert, but it feels incredible to just be touching him again.  
  
“James, can I – I want to kiss you. Please.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
The kiss is soft and careful, as if Jeremy is still worried about James’ physical well being. Then Jeremy sighs happily and pulls the other man closer with an arm across his lower back. Jeremy’s bulk presses against his; James’ palms curve over the bony protrusions of Jeremy’s hips.  
  
James drops his head to Jeremy’s chest, and the other man gently runs his fingers through the hair outlining the bandage. “We could have been doing this weeks ago,” Jeremy murmurs. “I still don’t understand why we weren’t.”  
  
James lifts his head, presses kisses against Jeremy’s stubbled jaw. “After we were together, you – you were already making plans to, you know, to be with Carol again.”  
  
“No, I wasn’t!”  
  
“You said – you talked about inviting her over again.”  
  
“Yeah, to dinner. For food. Not for -. As thank you for, for helping me…get you.” His hand draws gentle circles along James’ lower back, fortuitously finding one of the few areas not covered in bruises.  
  
James pulls back enough to make eye contact. “But, I saw you,” he says, confused. “At your front door, telling her good-bye. You were…very enthusiastic.”  
  
The blush that creeps up Jeremy’s cheeks is almost worth every minute of not having him. Almost.  
  
“All that was, was good-bye. I promise you. Okay, yeah, it was a bit of bad form, considering I had you – or I thought I did – but…. She was a big part of my life post-Francie. And I – it wasn’t like that, James. I haven’t even slept with her – with  **anyone**  since that night. And if I’d had any idea you’d seen that, and misunderstood…. Is that what you thought this whole time?”  
  
James nods.  
  
“And – and is that why you, why you left?”  
  
James nods again.  
  
“James – ”  
  
“I know,” he interrupts. “I’m a sodding idiot.”  
  
“No, well, yes, but…. Now that you know…the truth?”  
  
“I want to be with you, Jez. Just you.”  
  
The words are barely out of his mouth before Jeremy’s lips are on his again.  
  
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Jeremy murmurs against James’ lips.  
  
James wants to feel Jeremy against him, wants a glimpse of what it would be like to be taken by him, controlled by his body. Gripping Jeremy’s hips, James steps back until he’s got Jeremy pressing him against the wall.  
  
“Jez,” he moans quietly as he feels the other man’s hardening cock digging into his crotch just next to his own.  
  
The fingers that weave their way through his hair are gentle, carefully avoiding his bandage. He appreciates it, but right now he wants just a bit less tenderness and a bit more… **power.**  
  
Draping his arms around Jeremy’s neck, he tugs the other man even closer, until there isn’t a speck of space between his body and Jeremy’s. There’s a smile forming against his lips and more pressure against his cock as Jeremy straddles one of James’ thighs and pushes –.  
  
“Mmph,” he groans in pain, hands going immediately to Jeremy’s shoulders.  
  
To his credit, Jeremy backs off instantly, hands finding James’ hips and helping to pull him away from the wall. “Is it your head?” He reaches for where he knows the cut hides beneath pristine white cotton then decides better of it, instead settling for drawing circles on James’ shoulder.  
  
“No,” he spits out through a grimace. “M’back.”  
  
“What - ? Bruises?” At James nod, Jeremy reaches for James’ shirt. “May I?”  
  
“Yeah.” James turns to give Jeremy better access to his back.  
  
Ever so carefully, Jeremy lifts James’ shirt in the back. “Jesus, James.”  
  
“S’it that bad?”  
  
“Only like you’ve got run over by a lorry. Why didn’t you say?”  
  
James shrugs and steps away, tugging his shirt back down. “It’s just sore. Shoveling snow for 12 hours a day in the Arctic was much worse.”  
  
Jeremy rests his hands lightly on James’ hips. “God, I want you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
“It’s only the back. And only,” he holds his hand horizontally about two inches above his belly button, “from here up.”  
  
“So you on top?” Jeremy suggests with a wicked grin. “I can deal with that.”  
  
James snorts a laugh.  
  
“We – we are…doing this, right? Tonight?” Jeremy asks. Then, quickly, “Imeanwedon’thavetoifyoudon’twant – ”  
  
Fingers curling in Jeremy’s belt loops, James murmurs, “I want, Jez. I very much want.”  
  
Jeremy hesitates, and James thinks it’s due to his lack of experience in sex with another man. Then he says, “Lord knows I’m usually all for jumping in with both feet – ”  
  
“I’m fairly sure I’m not familiar with that sex act,” James interrupts, hands sliding along the sides of Jeremy’s belly.  
  
“Funny. I meant – I missed out on weeks of being able to touch you because of misunderstandings. That we could have avoided if we’d just…talked.”  
  
“So you want to talk instead of having sex?”  
  
“No. I want to talk and  **then**  have sex.” He slides his shoes off and slips his shirt over his head then lies back on the bed. “C’mere, May.”  
  
Shaking his head in disbelief, James similarly disrobes himself, tucking himself into Jeremy’s side. Jeremy’s fingers immediately find their way to his hair again, stroking as he talks.  
  
“Why didn’t you just say something, James? After Carol?”  
  
“I tried. I asked you out on a date, and you turned me down. That seemed pretty clear to me.”  
  
“You mean – are you talking about when you invited me to the opera? Oh, James. Fuck.” He leans down, presses his forehead against the top of James’ head. “While I  **was**  definitely turning down your invitation to the opera, it’s only because if I have to sit there for two hours of fat ladies singing gibberish, I’ll shoot someone.” He trails fingers down the sides of James’ face, across his lip. “That’s the nice thing about being in a relationship with someone: you no longer have to impress them by doing things you absolutely hate.”  
  
“I thought you didn’t lo – that you were telling me you just wanted sex, not a relationship.”  
  
“Oh, James.”  
  
“I didn’t – ” Everything begins to rush out. “I didn’t know that you cared. You know, sometimes, you….” James trails off.  
  
Jeremy takes a deep breath. “I am an arse to you, James. That’s what you were trying to say.”  
  
“Only sometimes. And usually I know you’re only taking the piss.”  
  
“And sometimes I take it too far,” he sighs. “And then, I was nice to you, and – ”  
  
“And I thought,” his fingers find Jeremy’s chest hair, rake their way through it, “maybe it meant….”  
  
“I must have confused the hell out of you.”  
  
“A bit.”  
  
“The way I felt – the way I  **feel**  about you, James, sometimes it terrifies me. And I – I wanted it to go away. I didn’t want to like you. Not like that. I wanted to – You said it wasn’t until you realized I felt the same for you as I did for Richard that…. That’s exactly how I wanted to love you, like I love Richard, and with none of the other stuff.  
  
“I certainly didn’t want you to like me back. My whole life, I’d suppressed my attraction to men, but you…. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. So, eventually, I stopped pretending and stopped trying to push you away."  
  
“And then I made a right hash out of it.”  
  
“Both our faults. If we’d had a conversation like this afterward….”  
  
James tilts his head until he catches Jeremy’s eye. “I spent weeks trying to figure out what you were thinking, Jez, and I still don’t know. What did you think, that made you try again, that night after the pub?”  
  
The hand in James’ hair stills. “I thought that - that you’d given up being with a man, that that part of your life was over and you didn’t want to go back to it. But I wanted to keep trying. Andy told me to show you how I felt. That I meant it.”  
  
“Did Andy know? Before that night at the pub?”  
  
“He knew I was attracted to men. He – ” Jeremy squirms beneath James. “He was the first man – boy, really – that I fancied. And I told him, and he didn’t hate me, and….”  
  
James has always liked Andy, but never before has he wanted to hug the other man.  
  
“He reminded me that not many people would feel the same way, but that he would stand behind me no matter what I decided. In the end, I decided it was safer to concentrate on women. He guessed how I felt about you, too. Said he couldn’t be sure that you felt the same way, but he said I had to try or I’d never forgive myself. That first time, I came on too strong. I was drunk. Then,” Jeremy tugs at his own hair, “then the flowers, but you - ”  
  
 _Oh._  “I didn’t understand what you were telling me.”  
  
“See?” Jeremy grins wryly. “This is why I don’t do subtle.”  
  
“I was too worried about you to notice what you were saying.”  
  
With a grunt, James lifts himself up off the bed and hitches his right leg over until he’s straddling Jeremy’s thighs.  
  
“I  **do**  like you on top,” Jeremy murmurs. “Nice view.”  
  
James grabs a pinch-full of belly fat and tweaks it playfully.  
  
“Ow! I’ll have you know, that’s extra body armor. It’s what’ll keep me alive in the case of a mortar attack when Richard gets killed.”  
  
“You and me both, then,” James quips.  
  
“I think it’s a sign of – ”  
  
“Jeremy?” James interrupts. “Can you be quiet?” Without waiting for an answer, James leans down, enjoying the way he’s pressed from stomach to chest against Jeremy, and kisses him.  
  
Large hands cup his arse, and he groans in response. He nudges Jeremy’s lips, asking for entrance. Jeremy’s lips part in response. He tastes like coffee and nicotine and…sheep brains, which is weird, but he knows his mouth must taste similar.  
  
The kiss intensifies quickly, both men aching with physical need and a desire to finally show what they’ve both known for so long.  
  
He wants Jeremy like this forever.  
  
With a loud smack of lips, James pulls back. “I don’t want to get married,” he blurts out.  
  
Jeremy barks out a laugh, rubs his hands along James’ thighs. “You  **can**  still have sex without being married, right? You haven’t found Jesus, have you, because I have to say, apparently this isn’t the type of relationship he approves of.”  
  
His hands slide to the backs of James’ thighs, gripping them and holding him in place. “I know you don’t want to get married,” he says, seriously for once.  
  
“But – you said – ”  
  
“I know what I said. I don’t care. I want you. And, you were right, that piece of paper doesn’t mean – ” Jeremy trails off and swallows hard, “It doesn’t mean I love you any more than I do.”  
  
“But – ”  
  
“Are you really concerned about that? Or are you just scared to do this?”  
  
James lays his hands on top of Jeremy’s, smoothes his thumb along the dry skin. “I’m fucking terrified to do this. But – never having you is horrible. But I’ve dealt with it everyday for – for years. I can’t imagine getting used to having you, and then you realizing I’m not enough. That you want something I can’t - ”  
  
Jeremy shakes him gently. “Listen to me because I’m only going to say this once. You are  **exactly**  what I’ve wanted for – fuck, for so long I can’t remember a time I didn’t. That’s why my marriage didn’t work – I loved you more than I loved her.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“No, that’s not why I’m telling you this. My getting married again? That was a back-up plan for when I thought I couldn’t have you. And, fuck, it would have been incredibly unfair of me. I shouldn’t even have – that’s why I was never really with Carol. She’s a fantastic woman and a dear friend, but I was just biding my time with her until I mustered up enough courage to go after who I really wanted.”  
  
“Are you sure that’s me?” James is grinning now.  
  
”Yes, you, you, you wonderful, incredible, infuriating man.”  
  
“I – I don’t know that I – ”  
  
“Wait. Do you love me?”  
  
James replies with no hesitation, “Yes.”  
  
“Do you want to be with me?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Then fuck the rest of it. We’ll figure it out. It’ll take some time, but – I want to get started with the rest of my life with you.  
  
“And, you know what? I can prove it right now. You can come with me, out there, and we can go tell everyone the good news. Or, we can have sex now, and go tell everyone after. Or, maybe tomorrow.” He glances down at his watch. “I may not be done with you for hours.”  
  
James quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t believe it’ll be that long,” he teases. “I think you need to prove it to me.”  
  
Jeremy’s hands slide along James’ thighs, squeeze his arse. James groans in response and leans forward, kissing along Jeremy’s collarbone.  
  
“Can – can we – Jeans off, James.”  
  
“Mmm, don’t want to stop touching you,” he murmurs.  
  
“You can touch a lot more of me if you – oh, oh, fuck,” he gasps as James nibbles at a spot underneath his chin. “Oi, why are you stopping?” he asks when James sits up.  
  
“You brought up a good point.” Waggling his eyebrows, James undoes his jeans. “No trousers means more skin.”  
  
“Well, I am known for making good points. Let me help.” Jeremy’s big, clumsy hands don’t make for efficient trouser removal, but James lets him at it, anyway. It feels good to be touched, even something mundane as the fastenings on his jeans.  
  
Once his trousers are undone, Jeremy’s hands slide under the waistband of his pants, slip down and cup his bare arse. “Jez,” James pants.  
  
“Hmm?” Jeremy asks, feigning innocence.  
  
“Sod this,” James announces. Circling Jeremy’s wrists in his hands, he pulls the other man’s hands out of his pants. Then he slides off the edge of the bed and, in one smooth motion, pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs, before kicking them off.  
  
“Not going to fold those?” Jeremy teases, his eyes unable to resist dropping down below James’ waist.  
  
“Nope. There’s something else I am far more interested in doing right now.”  
  
“Ooh, I do hope it’s me,” Jeremy responds, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.  
  
James has just climbed back onto the bed, and instantly falls against the covers laughing, face pressed against Jeremy’s knee. “Please don’t quit your day job to write Mills & Boon novels, Jezza.”  
  
“C’mere, naked May.”  
  
Smiling so hard it’s really hurting his face, James crawls back up Jeremy’s body. Remembering that Jeremy has – at least as far as he knows – only the one homosexual experience under his belt, he plans on going slowly, but as soon as he’s in reach, Jeremy boldly wraps one hand around his half-formed erection and tugs gently.  
  
“Fuuuck,” James whispers.  
  
“This okay?” Jeremy asks.  
  
“Yeah.” His hands reach for Jeremy’s belt, and he looks up, aiming for some silent communication, but the other man is apparently fascinated with watching the way his foreskin slides along his length under his hand. Chuckling, he asks, “May I?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
Once Jeremy’s belt and jeans are undone, James has his fingers under the waistband and is about to take them off when he realizes with a laugh, “Erm, I hate to ask this, but can you let go of my cock for a minute? So I can finish disrobing you?”  
  
With a snort, Jeremy removes his hand, and James maneuvers his jeans and boxers down the length of his impossibly long legs and then tosses them onto the floor.  
  
“Didn’t get to touch you much last time,” James murmurs as he begins marking a trail of kisses and hand strokes along Jeremy’s legs.  
  
Jeremy wraps his hand around his own burgeoning erection, watches James with rapt attention. Lifting his knees, he surrounds James with his thighs as James licks at the warm skin near his groin.  
  
James can feel his face heat as he offers, mumbling against humid skin, “I’d like to suck you off, Jeremy.”  
  
“No.”  
  
James’ head snaps up. “No?”  
  
“No – I mean, yes. Yes, of course I want that. But – but - ”  
  
James can see Jeremy’s chest rise and fall as he takes a slow, deep breath.  
  
“All I’ve been able to think about since that night with Carol is you inside me, James. I want that.”  
  
James sits up between Jeremy’s legs, strokes a hand along his flank as he speaks quietly. “That isn’t something – You don’t have to do that, yet or ever, to prove that you’re serious about this. Or for our relationship to, to count.”  
  
“I know. I - seriously, James – I’ve – ” Now it’s Jeremy’s turn to blush. “When I’ve wanked, I – you know – with my fingers, and – Fuck, James, I want you. Like that.”  
  
James blows air out pursed lips. “I- Jez, I want that, too. Not to mention, I’d like to do that the other way ‘round sometime, if you’re interested, and I think by the way you’re enthusiastically nodding your head that you are. But – we don’t have anything here. Unless you’ve got another Ann Summers kit I don’t now about.”  
  
“No condoms, but I do have some Vaseline, for the windburn.”  
  
“We need condoms,” James declares, surprising even himself with the vehemence he can hear in his voice, “if we’re doing this now. And real lube. Vaseline tears condoms apart.”  
  
“I know we’re not dressed for it, but we could….”  
  
“What? Pop over to a Superdrug and buy some? I’m not squeamish about buying condoms, but – We’re public figures, Jeremy. We’ve already seen how we get mobbed when we’re out there.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“This,” he indicates between the two of them, “it’s illegal here. Homosexuality. Do you – do you even want to risk that?”  
  
“But we’re not homosexualists,” Jeremy insists. “We like women.”  
  
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the distinction.”  
  
“All right. Well, I haven’t been tested in a while, but I’ve always used protection since Francie, and – ”  
  
“No.” James runs a hand down the length of his face. “Fuck, Jez, I didn’t - ” He reaches out blindly until Jeremy’s hand is caught in his. “I believe you, and – and there’s no reason to believe that either of us isn’t clean, but…. If I’m not, and something happens to you, I’d never forgive myself for taking the chance.”  
  
“All right,” Jeremy says, shaking James’ hand back and forth. “You’re right. Of course you are.”  
  
“Okay.” James brings Jeremy’s hand up to his mouth and presses his lips to the blue veins he can see on the back of it. “If you tell me where I can find the Vaseline, though, I can use my fingers on you. If you want?”  
  
Jeremy nods enthusiastically, pulling an unmanly giggle out of James. “Bag on the counter in the toilet.”  
  
When James returns from the loo, he’s surprised to find that Jeremy’s shoved two pillows under his hips, but he doesn’t comment.  
  
He sets the Vaseline aside without opening it, ignoring Jeremy’s, “Oi, I thought – ” Instead, without taking his eyes off his lover, he runs the flat of his tongue along the length of Jeremy’s erection.  
  
“Oh, god,” he groans. “Can – can you – at the same time?” When James nods, Jeremy’s eyes widen. “Fuck, maybe we should have held off on this until after we were done filming.”  
  
“Hmm?” James murmurs, just before he slides his lips over the head.  
  
“Nngh. Gonna. Kill me,” he pants. “Won’t be able – fuck – to finish the episode.”  
  
It’s been years and years since James last did this, and – while he wouldn’t say it’s like riding a bike – he’s glad to see that he still remembers the basics. And, with his nose nearly in Jeremy’s pubic hair, Jeremy smells  **fantastic** , all mild sweat and man; and he tastes even better.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, James can see Jeremy’s hands clenching and tearing at the coverlet. He closes his hand over one, lifts it off the bed and sets it on his own head. Jeremy catches on immediately, winding his fingers through the hair that isn’t covered by his bandage.  
  
“Mmm,” he hums in approval.  
  
“Fuck, James, do that again.” He does, changing the tone slightly and making Jeremy’s hips buck off the bed. It catches him off guard, and he has to pull away for a moment to catch his breath.  
  
“Sorry. Shit,” Jeremy gasps, cupping James’ face in his palm.  
  
“S’alright. I just wasn’t prepared for that.” Then, without warning, he returns to business.  
  
He works his tongue as he moves his head up and down the shaft, remembering things old girlfriends – and boyfriends - had favored and the reactions of the men he’d been with. He cups his hand around one testicle and squeezes gently. When that doesn’t elicit the reaction he’d been expecting – or that he would have given himself – he slides his mouth off Jeremy’s cock and gently lips at his scrotum.  
  
“Fuck, that’s – that’s fucking weird feeling, James, but don’t stop.”  
  
James smiles until he’s laughing, his breath against Jeremy’s balls causing the other man to make the most interesting sounds.  
  
“Tickles, James!”  
  
James buries his face against Jeremy’s hip as his laughter slowly dies down. “Sorry,” he snorts, clearly not at all sorry.  
  
“Bollocks.”  
  
James can’t help but glance just a few inches from his face where Jeremy’s bollocks actually are, and they both start chuckling again.  
  
“I thought you were going to fuck me with your fingers anyway, May.”  
  
“Wanted to make sure you were relaxed first.”  
  
“If I get any more relaxed, I’ll either fall asleep or come.”  
  
“Wouldn’t want that,” James agrees and sits back up.  
  
He pulls the lid off the Vaseline jar and spreads some of it onto his fingers. “How – how many fingers? Did you get inside you?” he asks.  
  
Jeremy clears his throat. “Two.”  
  
James nods, then leans down and presses his lips against Jeremy’s. “Jezza?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
He worries his tongue between his teeth for a moment before answering, “Love you.”  
  
Then fingers are carefully cupping the back of his neck and he’s drawn into another sweet kiss. “Love you, too,” Jeremy murmurs, the words buzzing against his lips.  
  
Eyes on Jeremy, James rubs the pad of his finger against the slight pucker he finds between Jeremy’s buttocks. “All right?”  
  
“Are you going to be doing pre-flight checks the entire time?” Jeremy asks.  
  
“Yep.”  
  
Jeremy sighs but smiles. “I’m fine. Keep going.”  
  
He continues making circles with his finger, pressing just a touch harder on every pass, feeling the way it gives under the pressure. Then, the tip slips inside and Jeremy’s eyes widen just a touch.  
  
James stills. “Still all right?”  
  
“Yeah,” he gasps.  
  
He pushes in a bit, pulls back, then pushes in again, until his entire finger is inside. He’s always liked this bit: the methodical, careful nature of it; watching the pleasure increase on his partner’s face with every millimeter. And doing it for a bloke is so much easier than for a woman, he knows exactly where to touch.  
  
“Keep going,” Jeremy moans. “Please.”  
  
The second finger is just as easy as the first, and he’s grateful that Jeremy has gone this far himself already.  
  
He crooks his fingers and wiggles them a bit, and then, “Oh, fuck! James, that’s – Fuckfuckfuck. Keep doing that.”  
  
“Good?” he murmurs, not expecting an answer, but Jeremy gives him one anyway.  
  
“So fucking good. Please.”  
  
Fingers still making slow, steady movements, he positions himself more comfortably, then he traces the vein on the underside of Jeremy’s cock with the tip of his tongue.  
  
“Jaaaames,” he groans.  
  
“Shh, Jez,” he whispers, laughing, “There are other people in this hotel. And we have to work with a great many of them.”  
  
“Don’t care. Your mouth, James, fuck.”  
  
James obeys the not-quite-spoken order and takes Jeremy’s cock in his mouth once more. The taste of pre-come is sweet and salty and definitely moreish. Feeling more confident, he lets his mouth glide further down the shaft and gets Jeremy’s fingers in his hair again as a reward. The other man tugs once, causing James to wince unbidden; he mutters, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” as soon as he’s realized.  
  
“More. Please, James.”  
  
James scissors his fingers, making room for one more. Then he forms his fingers as close together as he can and presses in, feeling resistance at first. But Jeremy encourages him, asking for more, and finally it slips just inside.  
  
“Wait, wait,” Jeremy pants.  
  
“Do you want me to stop?”  
  
“No! No, just, just hold still for a second. Let me….” He takes in big lung-fulls of air, then James can feel his body relax. “Okay, keep going.”  
  
James works his third finger in as carefully as the second.  
  
“God,” Jeremy whispers. “Is this what it’s going to feel like when you’re really…?”  
  
“Should feel even better,” James hopes.  
  
“Find that spot again, James,” Jeremy begs.  
  
James presses his nose into his shoulder, suppressing a snort. But Jeremy complains, “I heard that, May.”  
  
“I’m sorry, but if I told people I had Jeremy Clarkson begging me to rub his prostate, they’d have me committed.”  
  
“They don’t know what they’re – oh, yes, right there.”  
  
James snickers, kissing Jeremy’s knee in apology. He’s about to continue the blow job he’d left unfinished, when Jeremy says, “Not that I wasn’t enjoying the dual sensation thing, but, can you – I want to kiss you.”  
  
He hadn’t realized how much until Jeremy said it, but fuck, so does he. “Can you – ” he gestures with his head, “lie on your side?”  
  
Slowly, Jeremy manages to do so without requiring James to remove his fingers, and without breaking James’ wrist, which he was a little worried about. James goes with him, lying on his side facing the other man. Jeremy automatically positions himself so that his top knee rests on James’ thigh.  
  
“There you are,” Jeremy murmurs before closing the gap and kissing him. James’ eyes fall shut at the sensation.  
  
It feels so good that James forgets at first that he’s supposed to be moving his hand. When he finally remembers and twists his fingers to find that spot again, he’s rewarded with Jeremy’s hand clamping down on his hip and biting down perfectly on his bottom lip.  
  
“Mmm,” he murmurs.  
  
“I can touch you, if you want,” Jeremy pants.  
  
“Wait. You first.” He wants Jeremy’s full attention as he attempts to take him apart.  
  
Jeremy’s hands wander, though, sliding up his side, a thumb rubbing over his nipple.  
  
“Jez,” he whimpers, as his nipple is pinched between two fingers.  
  
“Good?” he asks, and James can hear the genuine uncertainty in his voice.  
  
“So good,” he assures.  
  
“Knew it.”  
  
James opens his eyes, catches Jeremy’s eyes grinning back at him. In retaliation, James begins his assault on Jeremy’s prostate in earnest.  
  
“Fuuuck. Oh, fuck. Please, I can’t handle – ”  
  
“I can’t reach your cock like this, Jez; you’ll have to – ”  
  
He doesn’t even have to complete his sentence before Jeremy encircles his cock with his own hand.  
  
“Harder,” he gasps. “Just a bit – so close.”  
  
James presses harder, thrusts his fingers just that much faster. Jeremy’s hand picks up a complementary tempo. Soon, the other man’s head is thrown back, exposing his throat. James takes advantage, nipping at his adam’s apple.  
  
“Gonna, gonna come. Fuck, I can’t – ” Jeremy lets out one long, satisfied moan and begins to come, semen splashing against James’ stomach in long spurts.  
  
“Come on,” James soothes him as he comes down from his orgasm, awkwardly rubbing at the bit of skin he can reach from the angle his arm is stuck under his own body.  
  
“Fuck, James,” he gasps, leaning forward and pressing his sweaty forehead against James’.  
  
“All right?”  
  
“Mmm. Fantastic.”  
  
James huffs a laugh and tries to ignore his own stiff erection. “M’gonna pull my fingers out now,” he alerts Jeremy. At Jeremy’s grunt of agreement, he pulls them out carefully.  
  
“Tissues on the table behind you,” Jeremy murmurs tiredly.  
  
“Thanks.” James turns, grabs one out of the box and wipes his fingers clean. Then he uses another wad to wipe down his and Jeremy’s stomachs. “No going to sleep yet, Clarkson.”  
  
“Mmm. Would never think of it.”  
  
Then long fingers are wrapped around his cock without warning. “What do you want, James?” Jeremy asks.  
  
“Just – just this. Your hands, Jeremy. God, I’ve thought about them for – oh, fuck.”  
  
“Wait. I have an idea.”  
  
James suppresses a shiver when Jeremy slips away. He watches the other man stack a couple of pillows against the headrest then sit up on the bed, leaning against them.  
  
“Ohh,” he says in understanding and moves to straddle Jeremy, bare arse against his hairy, sticky thighs. One of Jeremy’s hands moves to his chest, thumbing at his nipple. The other takes his cock in a tight grip.  
  
“Kiss me, Jez,” he pleads.  
  
“My pleasure.”  
  
If asked to name his favorite thing, James will be hard pressed not to respond, “Jeremy’s hand around my cock whilst he’s got his tongue in my mouth.”  
  
“Oh,” he mumbles against Jeremy’s lips as they pull apart to breathe. “Yes.” He wraps his arms around Jeremy’s neck, can’t help thrusting his hips in time with Jeremy’s strokes.  
  
Jeremy’s rhythm on James’ cock is miles better than any rhythm he’s ever held on the drums. He can’t help laughing into Jeremy’s mouth as the thought crosses his mind.  
  
“What’s so funny?” Jeremy asks, his own face in a relaxed smile.  
  
“Nothing. Just – just really happy.”  
  
“Mmm,” Jeremy agrees, taking his lips in another passionate kiss.  
  
James is getting close, his limbs tingly and his body hot. He knows exactly what he needs to come quickly, and hard, but he can’t quite get the words out amidst his panting and gasping and cursing.  
  
“Jez, I – fuck, please, - can, oh god, yes.” Finally, giving up, he takes Jeremy’s hand and lifts it from its place on his chest. With his other hand, he cups his own testicle, rolling it between his fingers. “Can - ?”  
  
“Definitely.”  
  
Jeremy’s fingers are the perfect size and roughness as he duplicates exactly what James had done.  
  
“Yes! Fuck. I’m, I’m almost – ”  
  
“Come on. Come for me, James.” Jeremy leans forward, the stubble of his chin scraping delightfully along James’ collarbone. “Love you,” he murmurs, just before biting down on James’ earlobe.  
  
“Fuck, fuck!” James’ hips slam forward, his head snaps back, and he comes in Jeremy’s hand. After a moment, he collapses forward into Jeremy’s arms, his face buried in his neck.  
  
Jeremy’s arms are careful, wary of the bruises along James’ back and the cut on the back of his head, as they slowly caress his heated skin.  
  
“I don’t wanna move,” James murmurs eventually.  
  
Jeremy chuckles. “Don’t have to. We might stick together, though.”  
  
“Ugh,” he complains, then briefly worries that Jeremy will take it the wrong way. But he doesn’t, because he’s Jeremy, and understanding James when he makes no sense is – usually – what he does.  
  
“Shower?”  
  
“Yes. Please.”  
  
The shower is cramped anyway, even without two blokes of Jeremy and James’ sizes trying to “save water,” so there isn’t any fooling around. Jeremy insists on washing his back – which James greatly appreciates since he’s too sore to reach behind him – and then his hair. And the feeling of the other man being that considerate and wonderful to him makes him want to do nothing more than climb back in bed with him and never leave. Spend their days wrapped around each other, reading the newspaper and eating tea and toast; spend their nights fucking roughly or gently making love.  
  
The idea scares him as much as it intrigues him.  
  
“Sit on the bed,” Jeremy insists once they’ve got out of the shower and dried off, towels wrapped around their waists. “I’ll do your bandage back up.”  
  
“I don’t really need it, Jeremy,” he argues.  
  
“Didn’t they say this’d keep the stitches from catching?”  
  
“Yeah, but – ”  
  
“Plus, it’ll be better for the camera. I’ve already got a gag planned.”  
  
James snorts a laugh, relieved. He may be being nicer, but he’s still Jeremy.  
  
“So, what do you say?” Jeremy asks as he wraps the bandage around James’ head. “Want to find the guys and tell them the good news?”  
  
James can tell by the tone of his voice that he wants to, badly, but that he’ll defer to James on this.  
  
“M-Maybe, in the morning, we’ll tell some of them. Richard and Andy definitely. Then, we can let the others in on it after we’re home. It’s not – not that I don’t want everyone to know. I only – I think this shoot will be easier, for me, if I’m not…wondering what everyone’s thinking about me.”  
  
“All right.” He fastens the end of the bandage and leans down, kissing James tenderly, chastely. “Bed then? I’m knackered.”  
  
“I – yeah. I need – from my room…. I’m sorry, I can’t sleep naked. I’ve tried, I just can’t – ”  
  
Jeremy snickers. “Of course not, May. Give me your key, I’ll put some clothes on, pop over to your room and bring your bag. Then you don’t have to put your dirty clothes back on, or try to navigate the halls in just a towel.” He pauses for a minute, then asks, “I mean – are you staying?”  
  
“Yes! Yes, I’m staying.”  
  
“Excellent.”


	8. Chapter 8

Jeremy tells Andy first thing, and James can’t help but grin at the absolute happiness on the other men’s faces as he watches their producer pull Jeremy into a hug. Before they get underway for the day, he corners James to offer his congratulations.  
  
“I am so happy for you two, May. And now maybe I can stop being Jeremy’s agony aunt.”  
  
“Well, I appreciate that, but I’m not so sure you’re permanently off the hook. I am a bit much; I’m sure Jezza will need to complain to you about me again. Frequently.”  
  
“But that he does all the time, anyway!” Andy laughs. “But – this…. He was devastated when he thought he’d missed his chance with you. Even before I knew what was going on, I could tell.”  
  
To Andy’s surprise as well as James’ own, James takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around Wilman in a brief hug. “Thank you. For – ” he takes a deep breath. “For being there for him the past few weeks, and since the divorce, and – and for what you said when you were kids. He told me, what he’d felt for you, and what you said, and – I’m sodding grateful he had you then.”  
  
The corner of Andy’s lip quirks in a smile. “And I’m grateful he has you now. Take care of him.”  
  
“I will.” And never before has he meant something so deeply.  
  
Richard they wait to tell until after their Biblical NASCAR race.  
  
“Richard’s been talking about ‘beautiful pert little bottoms,’” Jeremy murmurs as the crew stand together over a map, deciding their next plan of action.  
  
“And?”  
  
“I think that means it’s time to tell him.”  
  
“Why - ? Never mind. I won’t understand it, even if you explain it to me.”  
  
“Andy said we’ll be here for a bit. There’s some camera problem or something.”  
  
“All right. Let’s get this over with.” James isn’t worried that Richard will be disgusted his two friends are together, despite any jokes he might make. What he is worried about is Richard feeling left out, cast aside, as his mates’ relationship deepens.  
  
“James and I are going to have a fag, over there,” Jeremy tells Richard. “Andy says it’ll be awhile.”  
  
“All right. I can get behind that.”  
  
When they’ve settled themselves on some rocks, Jeremy gives James a look that says, ‘You want to, or do you want me to?’  
  
He’d rather Jeremy say it, but it’s best he gets used to telling people, talking about his personal life. And Richard couldn’t be an easier person to begin with.  
  
“Richard.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Jeremy – Jeremy and I have something to tell you.”  
  
Richard looks up from where he’s picking at a hole in the knee of his jeans, a worried look on his face.  
  
James clears his throat, covers Jeremy’s hand with his own. “We’re together.”  
  
Richard’s face breaks out into a wide smile. “Good. Is this – am I the only one who knows so far?”  
  
“Andy does,” Jeremy says. “And we’ll tell everyone eventually, but for now….”  
  
“Keep it under wraps. Got it.”  
  
“You’re not even the least bit surprised?”  
  
“Why should I be? James and I had a talk the other night; I knew how he felt about you. You told me about Andy setting you up on dates with another guy, so I knew you were attracted to men. And – you’re not subtle, Jeremy. I knew you felt something for James years ago.”  
  
“How did I not know?” James asks, dumbfounded.  
  
“Because, sometimes you’re thick, mate.”  
  
“We’re getting the evil eye from Herr Wilman, chaps,” Jeremy notices. “Time to get going.”  
  
\--  
  
They’re back to being Jeremy and James: mates who argue a lot. It isn’t until they’re at the Sea of Galilea – James’ head now devoid of bandage as a result of Jeremy’s ‘Miracles of JC’ gag – that their relationship gets a mention.  
  
He and Jeremy sit together, watching the end of the sunset. Jeremy is lying on his back, head propped up under his arm. James’ back is still sore, so he’s sitting with his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.  
  
Richard drops down next to Jeremy to take in the view with them. It takes awhile, but eventually his mind does the math: 2 new lovers + 1 beautiful, foreign sunset = 1 in-the-way Hamster.  
  
“Oh, shit, guys,” he mumbles, scrambling to his feet. “I’ll leave, let you two….”  
  
“You pillock,” Jeremy argues. “I wouldn’t do anything to him right now that I wouldn’t do to you.”  
  
“Blech.” Richard makes a face. “That’s not helping, mate.” He does sit back down, but this time it’s next to James.  
  
After a moment, James reaches out, slinging an arm over Richard’s shoulders. Looking up at them, Jeremy huffs a laugh, but Richard looks sideways at him.  
  
“What are you - ?”  
  
“Nothing,” James says, dropping his arm. “Never mind.”  
  
Richard frowns in confusion, but doesn’t move away.  
  
They sit there, talking and smoking, until it’s nearly dark. Then, Andy’s shadow looms over them. “Need to check in to the hotel, boys. We’ll come back in the morning, though.”  
  
They walk back to their cars, James swiping sand off Jeremy’s back in an excuse to touch him. Then, “Just a second, Jez. I want to talk to Richard.” James jogs toward Hammond’s car, ignoring his surprise at Captain Slow doing something so close to running when there are cameras in the vicinity.  
  
“I – My accident. It reminded me.” He pauses, then says, “I’m glad you’re here, mate.”  
  
Richard’s face softens. “I’m glad you’re here, too.” Then, Richard’s arms are wrapped around James’ waist and his head is leant against his chest. James returns the hug, briefly ducking his head and pressing his face to Richard’s hair.  
  
“Don’t forget about me, all right?” Richard mumbles. “You and Jeremy.”  
  
“Never. Promise.”  
  
Richard nods his head quickly then pulls away. “Can we just forget I said that?”  
  
“Forget you said what?” James asks.  
  
Richard opens his mouth, about to reply, then, “Oh. Nice.”  
  
“You spanner.”  
  
“At least I am not. Having Sex. With An Orangutan.”  
  
James chuckles. “I’d tell you you should give it a try, but he’s mine. Also, I like your wife. And I am a bit afraid of her.”  
  
\--  
  
Their first night home, they’re too tired to do anything but shower, climb into James’ bed, and sleep for 10 hours. Jeremy had already made arrangements to see his kids the next day, so they don’t see each other at all for a day and a half.  
  
James’ phone rings in mid-afternoon while he’s out in the garage, trying to figure out why his Honda won’t start.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“James, it’s Jeremy.”  
  
James can’t help the wide smile his face breaks into at the sound of the other man’s voice. “Jezza,” he breathes. “Visit with your kids going well?”  
  
“It did. They just left, actually.”  
  
“Oh?” James picks up the spanner he’d been using and begins cleaning it with a rag whilst he listens.  
  
“Yeah. Listen, I – I was wondering – ”  
  
“Would you like to come over?”  
  
“Yeah. I mean, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“Of course I’d like that.”  
  
“Didn’t want to presume.”  
  
James lets out a satisfied sigh. “I appreciate that. When will you be here?”  
  
“Um, well, actually.”  
  
That’s when James hears his doorbell ring.  
  
“You bellend,” James says, happily, shoving himself off the garage floor. He’s still got the phone in his hand when he opens the door to see Jeremy on the other side of it. He switches it off and sets it on the small table by the door.  
  
“Come in, you.”  
  
The door is barely shut behind him when Jeremy stalks closer, pressing James against the wall with his body. “Missed you,” he murmurs before kissing him.  
  
“Upstairs?” James manages between kisses.  
  
“Mmm. Good idea.”  
  
They make their way up the stairs, stopping periodically to kiss, or grope an arse, and eventually stumble through the doorway. Their propulsion sends them in the direction of the bed, and James doesn’t stop them, knocking Jeremy onto his back on the bed.  
  
“Oi!” he says as Jeremy attempts to pull him on top of him. “I’m trying to save your back by not falling on you.”  
  
“Don’t care.”  
  
“Well  **I**  care,” James states, kneeling on the bed over Jeremy’s lower belly. “I might have some plans for you that will require your back.”  
  
“Do tell,” Jeremy says, waggling his eyebrows.  
  
“There’s some laundry that needs to be done, and some work in the garden – Oi! You pinched my arse!”  
  
“You’re talking bollocks.”  
  
He squeezes his thighs together, enjoys the feeling of Jeremy under him. “Oh, you meant the plans I had that involved you being naked?”  
  
“Yes. Those plans.” Jeremy’s hand cups his own semi-erection over his jeans and rubs. “The ones that involve interesting ways of getting rid of this.”  
  
“I don’t understand why you’d want to get rid of it,” James teases, slipping his own fingers under Jeremy’s. “It seems like fun.”  
  
“Jaaames.”  
  
“All right. I – I actually don’t have any specific plans. You – you said you wanted me to fuck you, and if you still do, I have the supplies here. Is that what you want?”  
  
“Yes. Please,” Jeremy pleads, his voice already sounding desperate.  
  
James leans forward and kisses Jeremy. When he pulls back, those blue eyes are gazing at him with such trust and love he almost doesn’t know what to do with it. So he does exactly what Jeremy wants and digs in the bedside table for the condoms and lube.  
  
Setting them on the bedspread, he begins the work of undoing Jeremy’s trousers. Then the other man muses, “You know, if we each do this ourselves, we can get to the good part that much sooner.”  
  
“You’re right.” And, with a speed he didn’t realize he possessed, James “Captain Slow” May hops off the bed and begins stripping off his clothes. His back to Jeremy, he shrieks when cold hands grab at his waistband to help him slip his boxers off.  
  
“Jesus, May,” Jeremy cackles, nearly bent at the waist in laughter. “You sounded just like a girl.”  
  
“You scared me, and your hands are fucking ice, Clarkson!”  
  
When Jeremy’s laugh finally peters out into intermittent chuckles, he says, “Sorry, May. Warm them up for me?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, James takes the other man’s hands in his and presses them to his face.  
  
“No,” Jeremy declares. “Not warm enough.”  
  
James lets him slide his hands down, along James’ arms and across his chest and down his belly. “This all just an excuse to molest me, Clarkson?” James asks with a smirk.  
  
“It’s your duty as my co-presenter to make sure I’m prepared for whatever we’re endeavoring to do.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure that isn’t – fuck, Jez! – isn’t in my contract.”  
  
Jeremy grins as he hands continue to slide between James’ legs. “Fine print.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
James retaliates by going straight to Jeremy’s half-hard cock, taking it in his hand and pumping slowly.  
  
“Aaahhhh. James, fuck.”  
  
“Ready to quit fooling around?” James buries his face in the crook of Jeremy’s neck, breathes in that gorgeous scent of aroused man, and bites just hard enough to hurt.  
  
“Fuck, yes, yes. Fuck me.”  
  
James runs his hands along Jeremy’s arms, along his shoulders, and up his neck until they’re cupping his face. Then he steps closer until they’re nearly nose-to-nose – or would be if Jeremy weren’t so tall - their bellies pressed together.  
  
“You’re in charge here, all right? I do anything you’d rather I not, or if there’s anything you  **do**  want that I’m not doing, tell me.”  
  
“James,” Jeremy replies, a blush forming over his cheeks. “I don’t need to be coddled.”  
  
“It’s not coddling. This – this could hurt. I’m going to try my damnedest to keep you from feeling any pain, but I need your help. I need you to be honest with me, tell me what you’re feeling. All right?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And if it hurts, we stop, come back to this another day.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Good. I – I think, this time, I think it’ll be better if you lie on your stomach.” He wishes it weren’t so – he’d like to be able to see Jeremy’s face and kiss his lips – but it’s probably the easiest way with the issues their height difference and these damn beer guts getting in the way are going to cause, which will only be hampered by neither man being in great shape. “Does that sound okay?”  
  
Jeremy nods, then turns his head to the side and presses his lips to the center of James’ hand. “I trust you, James.”  
  
“Good. Lie on the bed. Make yourself comfortable.”  
  
As Jeremy makes himself at home on James’ bed with a couple of pillows, James straddles his thighs. All that smooth, pale, perfect skin splayed out before him: he needs to touch it.  
  
He begins by massaging those broad shoulders.  
  
“Ugh,” Jeremy moans below him.  
  
“Your muscles are tight,” James murmurs. “Trying to loosen you up.”  
  
“Our big trips do this to me.”  
  
“Good job you have me now.”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
James finds a knot in the center of his shoulder blades and presses on it, reading the muscles like he does piano keys, pressing hard or soft, pulling desperate groans out of Jeremy.  
  
“Good?” he asks unnecessarily, just because he wants to hear that throaty moan attempting real communication.  
  
“H-oh, fuck. Yes.”  
  
He works his way down his back, kneading with the heel of his hand, dancing his fingers over aching muscles. When he gets to that gorgeous arse, he simply squeezes two handfuls.  
  
“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he can’t help but murmur. “I can’t believe I have you now.”  
  
Jeremy twists his upper body until he catches James’ eye. “Believe it.”  
  
James smiles, leans down and forward, and awkwardly catches Jeremy’s lips. “Mmm,” he breathes. “You ready?” he whispers.  
  
“Mmm-hmm.”  
  
After another quick kiss, James sits back up, moving backward on his knees until he’s in the right position.  
  
“D’you want me on my knees?” Jeremy asks.  
  
“Not just yet. Unless you’d be more comfortable that way?”  
  
“This is good.”  
  
He coats his fingers in lube and begins working his way up to three fingers again. It’s easier this time, both of them more confident, Jeremy’s body even more accepting of this intrusion. Jeremy’s hips take up a rhythmic rocking after he’s worked the second one in, which takes James a few seconds to understand.  
  
“Stop humping my mattress, you cock!”  
  
Jeremy’s head falls as he laughs, but his hips don’t still. “Shut up. Feels fucking good.”  
  
“Here. Lift up a bit and shove a couple pillows under you. Then you can work your hand under there. Slow, though. Don’t want you to come before I’ve even got inside you.”  
  
Once Jeremy is in position, James starts speeding up his methodical process, giving a couple of the pre-flight checks just cursory examination before moving on. He really doesn’t want the old man to come before the good part, or make him suffer too much waiting for it.  
  
Finally, Jeremy is stretched out and moaning for James to fucking get on with it, already. Snickering, James slides on a condom and slicks it up.  
  
With a knee on either side of Jeremy’s thighs and his hands pressed against the bed, he gets into position. “Ready?”  
  
“No, I thought I’d just get up and go home now,” he replies sarcastically. “Of course I’m fucking ready, May.”  
  
James ducks his head, pressing a kiss between Jeremy’s shoulder blades. “Love you, too, Jez,” he murmurs.  
  
“I’d love you more if you’d fuck me already.”  
  
James snorts, the breath moving a wisp of curl on the back of Jeremy’s head. Cock in hand, he lines himself up and presses forward just a touch.  
  
“Fuck!” Jeremy begins to rear up on his knees; James’ hand on the small of his back is the only thing that holds him down.  
  
“Sweetheart,” he begins, caressing the trembling body beneath him, “I barely did anything. You’re just anticipating.”  
  
“Well, you said it might hurt,” Jeremy protests. “Wait. Did you just call me ‘sweetheart?’”  
  
He did.  _Fuck._  
  
“I did not. You’re getting old, and you hearing’s going.”  
  
Jeremy twists again, reaches his hand up and presses it against James’ chest. James is expecting something heartfelt. What he gets is, “You are so full of shit.”  
  
That’s better, anyway.  
  
James grins and covers Jeremy’s hand. “Sorry. Habit.”  
  
“I didn’t say you  **couldn’t**  say it. I’m only going to take the piss if you do.”  
  
“All right. Ready to continue, darling?”  
  
Jeremy wrinkles his nose and laughs, his head falling forward and exposing his long neck. “Yes. Continue.”  
  
“Now hold still this time and wait to see if it actually hurts.”  
  
Jeremy grunts in agreement.  
  
James presses in, again, slowly, so slowly, until the head of his cock finally slips inside. He can hear Jeremy suck in air between his teeth, but before he has a chance to respond, the other man is mumbling, “I’m okay, I’m okay, please don’t move.”  
  
Propping himself up on one arm, James rubs circles on the small of Jeremy’s back, trying to soothe the tension.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Jeremy whispers as his body loosens the rest of the way and James slides inside without trying. “Jesus. I’ve never felt anything like this before. You’re  **inside me** , James.”  
  
Without pushing in further, he tilts his head, kissing across the enticing shoulder blades in front of him. “Good?”  
  
“Yeah. You can move. Slowly.”  
  
James shifts so he’s holding himself up on both elbows, his belly fitting exactly into the curve of Jeremy’s back. He begins to roll his hips, careful, listening for sounds of pain or discomfort coming from below him. But all he can hear is Jeremy’s repeated loud, long groaning of his name and the occasional swear.  
  
“Fuck, fuck,” Jeremy mutters.  
  
Sweat drips off the end of James’ nose, lands in a dimple in Jeremy’s shoulder blade. “Jeremy,” he gasps. “So good.”  
  
“Yes. Yes.”  
  
James speeds up his hips, keeping a nice, rhythmic roll that has Jeremy twisting the sheets between his fingers. To help him out, James manages to find a space to shove his hand behind the pillow Jeremy’s propped up on and close his hand around the other man’s cock. His other arm curves under Jeremy’s body, against the mattress, to better hold himself up.  
  
With his now-free hand, Jeremy reaches behind him, grips James’ thigh in his hand.  
  
“James. Harder. Please,” he pants.  
  
James obeys, to an extent. He doesn’t want to listen to the other man complaining the next day when he can’t sit down. And he wants Jeremy to want to do this again. And again.  
  
“Jez, Jez,” he chants, forehead pressed against the other man’s back, lips tickling against the hot skin as he speaks.  
  
“’M close, James. So close.”  
  
“Me, too. Fuck.”  
  
Then Jeremy does something unexpected yet delightful. He clenches his internal muscles, gripping James’ cock even tighter. That’s the end of it for him; he begins to come, hips speeding up as he spurts into the condom, fingers tightening on Jeremy’s cock.  
  
He can feel Jeremy coming almost immediately after him, shouting his name and a load of curse words. He can feel the trembling below him, see the arch of his neck.  
  
“Next time,” James pants as he lays the side of his face against Jeremy’s back, “I need to see your face.”  
  
“Mmm,” Jeremy agrees.  
  
They rest there for a while, each taking deep, shuddering breaths until their heart beats slow. Eventually, James knows he needs to move, is about to collapse his entire weight against Jeremy otherwise. With three fingers parting Jeremy’s buttocks, James prepares to pull out. The other man tenses in anticipation and then sighs at the loss.  
  
“Be right back,” James promises, kissing the small of Jeremy’s back before standing.  
  
After disposing of the condom, he returns with a damp towel and proceeds to clean them both off. “Get under the covers,” he insists. Jeremy does, murmuring incoherently as he does so. Chuckling, James climbs in beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing their foreheads together.  
  
“Thought you didn’t sleep naked,” Jeremy murmurs.  
  
“I don’t. Doesn’t mean I can’t lie here with you naked.”  
  
“Mmm, naked cuddling. I like you naked.”  
  
James snorts. “I’m rather fond of Naked Jeremy as well.”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“You going to sleep?”  
  
“Not if you keep talking, I’m not.”  
  
“I can be quiet.”  
  
“I like you talking,” Jeremy insists.  
  
“All right.”  
  
“Want to do that again,” Jeremy whispers, lifting his head and looking into James’ eyes.  
  
“Good. So do I.”  
  
“Want to fuck you, too.”  
  
“Excellent.” James grins.  
  
“Do – are you, you know, did you normally – top or bottom?”  
  
James traces the curve of Jeremy’s ear. “I like both. It depended on who I was with, what he liked.”  
  
Jeremy frowns.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Don’t like the sound of that, you deciding who you are by the bloke you’re with.”  
  
“No.” James swipes an unruly curl behind Jeremy’s ear, kisses his nose, prompting a laugh out of the other man. “Not like that. Not – when I was really young and inexperienced, yeah, a bit. But, no, I just find both equally enjoyable.”  
  
“I – there’s something I want. I think.” Jeremy’s gaze is lowered, his cheeks pink.  
  
“You think?” James asks gently.  
  
“Yeah, I – I saw it in my – when I was trying to make sure I, this is what I wanted, I watched….”  
  
“You watched some gay porn, and you saw something you’d like to try?” James plucks Jeremy’s hand from where it is worrying the bedspread and clasps it in his own and holds it between them. “You can tell me. Are you worried I’ll say no?”  
  
“I guess. Or worse, be disgusted.”  
  
James squeezes his hand. “Look at me.” He waits until Jeremy has lifted his head then kisses him long and slow. “I can’t promise I won’t say no, because I don’t know what you’re asking. And while the idea of some things might…might not be for me, I’d never be disgusted at you for asking.”  
  
“It’s not what I want to do. It’s, it’s more…how.”  
  
James suppresses a snort. “You mean – you mean where you go and where I go?”  
  
“Yeah. And, and some…props.”  
  
“In other words, you saw some kinky porn and it got you really hot and bothered, and you’re looking forward to recreating it with me?”  
  
Finally, Jeremy smiles. “That’s the gist of it, yeah.”  
  
“I’m flattered. Maybe we could watch it, together. For inspiration.”  
  
“Excellent idea.”  
  
“As for the specifics? Anything you and I are still physically capable of doing, I’ll try at least once. As long as I get to touch you,” he pauses to consider, “or at least watch, I don’t care how we do it.”  
  
“I’ve actually got several favorites I’d like to emulate.”  
  
James huffs a laugh against Jeremy’s shoulder. “Just remember. I haven’t had gay sex since the 80s. There was no internet then, and you didn’t just go…borrow a video. Not that kind. At least I didn’t.”  
  
Jeremy slips his hand out of James’, runs the back of his fingers along his cheek. “You haven’t watched any gay porn since?”  
  
James shrugs. “A bit. But always with my girlfriends, so it was usually pretty tame. And we didn’t get very far before we got…distracted.”  
  
“You never…on your own? Between girlfriends, or, or, just because you wanted a wank?”  
  
James shakes his head. “I didn’t want to…tempt myself with that, I guess. Remind myself what I’d put behind me.”  
  
“You – you are attracted to women, though?”  
  
James nods. “I am pretty equally attracted to both. Physically. And, I guess, a person’s a person and I either get on with them or not, regardless of their sex.”  
  
“Good. I mean, your relationship with Sarah seemed like the real deal.”  
  
“It was.”  
  
“And – and you certainly seemed to enjoy our ménage à trios.”  
  
“You know, saying it in French doesn’t make it any classier,” James chuckles.  
  
“It was pretty fucking hot, though.” Jeremy slides his hand through James’ chest hair, tweaks a nipple.  
  
“You – did you want to do that again?” James tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice.  
  
“No, I mean, yes, I’m a man, of course I do. But, May,” he rubs his thumb over James’ nipple and it’s nearly as soothing as it is erotic, “I couldn’t even if we had the chance. Now that I have you, I couldn’t watch you with someone else. It’d kill me. I could be all manly and pretend otherwise, but…no. Couldn’t do it.”  
  
“Good.” He clears his throat, needing to say some things. Make Jeremy understand. No one else has, but this may be his best chance. “But, being bisexual – it’s still looked down upon by both straight and gay people, but I think back then it was even worse. Gay men didn’t accept that I liked women, and, well at the time, I didn’t tell a lot of people that I liked men. In university and in my 20s, I found meeting men and getting on with them and, and just being with them easier. So that’s usually what I did.”  
  
“Why – why did you stop then? Seeing men?”  
  
James sighs, cups his hand around Jeremy’s bony hip. “You were a bit right, before, when you said that I was afraid of being out and on telly.”  
  
Jeremy’s brow furrows, angry at himself for the words he’d said back then.  
  
“Shh, it’s fine,” James insists. “I know you just said it in retaliation after I hurt you.”  
  
“Still shouldn’t have done it.”  
  
“No, but neither should I have.”  
  
“Live and learn, James.” He strokes his hand through James’ hair. “But you must have stopped, seeing men, well before you were on television. Was it – was it your family?” he asks, doubtfully.  
  
James shakes his head. “No, they were – they were really fantastic. I was really lucky in that regard. I’d been so scared to tell them, but they’d suspected for years. I think Mum and Dad talked about it, what they would do or say if I ever came out. So when I did, they were prepared. I think it helped them, actually, knowing that if I wanted, I could choose to settle down with a nice girl.”  
  
Jeremy closes his eyes tightly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. About telling my family. Not to mention…everyone else.”  
  
“I’ll be here, Jez.”  
  
Jeremy’s eyes open, and he smiles beautifully at James. “I know. And it helps that my family loves you.”  
  
James smiles, bashful. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment, then says, “To answer your question, I stopped seeing men because I was tired of losing friends.”  
  
Jeremy’s eyes blaze in anger. “If your friends had a problem with you sleeping with men, then – Oh. Fuck. You mean AIDS.”  
  
“Yeah. At first we didn’t know how they were getting sick, just that they were. And then they were dying. And then we knew, but…. And – and the way people looked at them. I – I didn’t want to end up like them. And I couldn’t stand to sit around and see everyone I cared about….” His eyes fill with unshed tears.  
  
“Oh, James,” Jeremy croons softly, smoothing his hair away from his face.  
  
“I was no better than the people who despised them for being different.”  
  
“No, that’s not true. You were protecting yourself, the best you knew how.” He kisses along James’ forehead, his brow, the space between his eyebrows. “That’s why you were so, so adamant, back in Syria….”  
  
James nods quickly, glad that Jeremy understands.  
  
“I was wrong, James, and you were right about that.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” James says through a wet chuckle. “Did Jeremy Clarkson just say he was wrong about something?”  
  
“Yeah, but there aren’t any cameras around. Unless you’re kinkier than I realized.”  
  
James can’t stop the blush that creeps up his chest and to his face.  
  
“Oh, James. Is that something on your wish list?”  
  
“Might be.”  
  
“I think I can work with that.”  
  
“I – I’ve never…. Just thought, you know….”  
  
“We’re two public figures, so the logical thing to do would be make a sex tape that could get into the wrong hands?”  
  
“Well, when you put it that way,” James scoffs.  
  
“What about your girlfriends?” Jeremy asks, seemingly apropos of nothing. “Did they know about you being, you know, bi?”  
  
“A few of them did. Sarah did.”  
  
“Did any of them have a problem with it?”  
  
“The first one I told. She – I hadn’t known her long enough, thought she was more…accepting than it turned out she was. Wasn’t why we broke up, though.”  
  
“No? Why was that?”  
  
“She couldn’t handle the engine parts on the kitchen table. Which was stupid; she didn’t even live there.”  
  
Jeremy chuckles and brushes his lips along James’ hairline.  
  
“Sarah was great about it, though. Said it was just one more thing that made me unique, helped me see the world different than everyone else.”  
  
“Hmm,” Jeremy hums, considering. “I was afraid to tell Francie. Not because she had a problem with homosexualists or anything. I just didn’t think she’d be keen on  **her husband**  fancying men. And she’d have worried about me and you, and me and Andy, and even me and Richard, which is so ridiculous it’s laughable. I’d do my bloody back out trying to kiss him.”  
  
“Please don’t make me think about that while we’re in bed.”  
  
“Sorry.” He sounds not even the least bit sorry. “She would have been right to worry, though. About me and you. I mean, not that I’d have done anything. I’m a cad, but I wouldn’t do that.” Jeremy breaks out into an enormous yawn.  
  
“Tired?” James asks unnecessarily.  
  
“Bit.”  
  
“I’ll be back.” James changes into his pajamas and gets back into bed. He curls against Jeremy’s body, the other man’s arm lying across his waist, his head tucked under Jeremy’s chin.  
  
“Night, James.”  
  
“Night, Jez.”[  
](http://topgearslash.livejournal.com/1828172.html)


	9. Chapter 9

_Top Gear_  is on a filming break for the time being, and none of James’ other projects have started up yet, and Jeremy’s kids are with their mother, so Jeremy has been at the house 24 hours a day for the last eight days.  
  
It’s wonderful. Except for when it isn’t.  
  
Jeremy is sat at the kitchen table, perusing the Sunday paper, when James opens the refrigerator door. He takes a cursory glance at its contents, then murmurs, “I’m off to the shops. We need…something.”  
  
“James?” Jeremy asks, stopping James as he reaches for his car keys. “We went yesterday. What did we forget?”  
  
“Oh, um, beer. And tea.”  
  
“We bought beer. And you have enough tea to start a tea shop.” Before James can continue, Jeremy adds, “And you have SPAM, too.”  
  
“Well, we don’t have any biscuits, and I know how you like them with your tea, and – ”  
  
“James, are – are you breaking up with me?”  
  
James’ whirls around so fast it’s a wonder he doesn’t experience vertigo. “No! Why would you ask that?”  
  
“Then….” Jeremy pauses for a moment, then laughs. “Did you just want me to leave for a couple days?”  
  
“No,” James insists. “I – I mean….” He walks to the table, curls his hands around the edge of it. “I love having you here, I – I want you to  **belong**  here. With me.”  
  
“You just can’t handle this much of me,” Jeremy says, knowingly. “You need your space.”  
  
James ducks his head, embarrassed. “It’s not that I don’t love you.”  
  
“I know.” Jeremy gets up from his seat, downs the rest of his coffee in two gulps and rinses it out in the sink; all the while James waits for the other shoe to drop.  
  
Jeremy comes to stand in front of him, takes his hand between his own gnarled ones.  
  
“I’m sorry, Jez.”  
  
“Don’t be,” Jeremy urges. “If you need time alone, I want to give that to you. Any time you want me gone, just say so.” He chuckles. “Just, preferably not in the middle of the night.”  
  
“I want you to understand – ”  
  
“Shh. Let’s take a couple days or, or how ever long you need. Then we can talk about this later, if you want. But - ” He leans down and kisses James on the forehead. James grips his hand tightly. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too, Jez.”  
  
Jeremy smiles. “I know.” He finds his own key ring and his shoes. James wants to tell him not to go, but he knows it needs to happen or he’ll end up feeling stifled, resenting him. “I’ll be back. Okay?”  
  
“Yeah. Wait, Jez.” James wraps his arms around the other man’s shoulders, tugs him close, and then kisses him. He memorizes every bit of it. “Thank you,” he says, finally.  
  
“We’ll talk later,” Jeremy reiterates.  
  
\--  
  
James uses the time without Jeremy wisely, cleaning up the house, practicing the piano, fixing motorbikes. He even has a chance to invite Colin to the pub.  
  
“What’s this I hear about you getting concussed in Syria?” is how his mate greets him.  
  
James tells him the whole story, which doesn’t take long, since he doesn’t remember the interesting bits. Then, quietly: “Jeremy and I – we, you know, got…got together after that. We’re together now.”  
  
“Mate! That’s excellent news.”  
  
“You’re, you’re not…surprised? Disgusted?”  
  
“James.” With raised eyebrows, Colin takes a sip of beer, gestures toward the dartboard in the back. James nods in agreement and they make their way through the pub.  
  
Colin shoots first, his aim worse than usual. “I – I know you’ve never told me, you know, one way or another,” he says, hands in his pockets as he watches James take his turn. “But, I’ve always wondered. About you.”  
  
“If I was a queer?” He doesn’t know where the defensiveness comes from, wishes he could tamp it down.  
  
Colin steps closer, plucks the dart from James’ hand. “Mate. I don’t – I don’t give a shit who you’re attracted to, or what you do in bed. You’re James either way. You’re my mate. But, yeah. I’ve seen you glance at men, Jeremy especially, when you thought no one was looking.”  
  
“Why – you could have asked.”  
  
“Like I said, it didn’t matter. And I know you don’t fancy talking about that kind of thing.”  
  
“It wasn’t that I was hiding. I had Sarah, and….”  
  
“I understand. I’m not angry you never said anything.”  
  
James crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t feel like I’ve lied?”  
  
Colin cocks his head to the side in thought. “Is it really me you’re worried about? Or other people?”  
  
James shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking forward to the scrutiny. Of being a public, out figure. A “gay role model” or some ridiculous bollocks.”  
  
“The only thing you have to be is yourself, James.”  
  
James sighs. “I only hope that’s enough for Jeremy.”  
  
Colin reaches out, rests his hand on James’ crossed arms. The touch is unusual enough that James can’t help but prepare himself for whatever Colin may be planning to say.  
  
“I didn’t realize that he liked you, you know, in that way. But there was never a doubt in my mind that that man adores you. Of course you’ll be enough for him.”  
  
James huffs a bitter laugh. “How could it be so obvious to you, when sometimes I could barely tell he didn’t hate me?”  
  
Colin laughs at him, but not unkindly. “Because you have trouble believing that anyone likes you, James. Remember when you first started  _Top Gear_? I mean, the second time? You were so certain they’d sack you after one episode. And now look at you. You are incredible. And please don’t ever remind me that I said this.”  
  
James smiles.  
  
“And, when Jeremy gets back from filming, or wherever he is right now, you’ll remember how he feels.”  
  
James drops his head, scrubs at his hair. “He’s not filming,” he mutters.  
  
“Where he is? With his kids?”  
  
Lifting his head, James answers, “I sent him home. I – his being there was too much. I didn’t want to start fighting.”  
  
Colin frowns. “Not – he is coming back, right?”  
  
“I hope so.”  
  
“James, he knows you. Knows your quirks. He must understand how – how being with you isn’t going to be like what he’s used to.”  
  
James pulls away, paces, hand tugging at his hair. “I don’t know. He’s – he’s conventional. I’ve told him I don’t believe in marriage, and he was fine with that. Or, he said he was, at least. But – I lived with Sarah, maybe he thinks…. Oh, fuck, Colin. I don’t know.”  
  
“You have to give him a chance, James. Can’t dismiss it before you even talk to him.”  
  
“What do I do, Col?”  
  
“Talk to him. I think he’ll surprise you.”  
  
\--  
  
Two days after Jeremy goes back to his flat, James rings him up and invites him to lunch. He doesn’t mention that he needs to talk to him, doesn’t want to scare Jeremy before he’s had a chance to explain himself.  
  
To avoid pulling his hair out in anticipation, James practices the piano while he waits. In the middle of Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 11, the doorbell rings.  
  
“You can use your key,” James insists as he opens the door and lets Jeremy in. The words are barely out of his mouth before the other man has him pressed against the door.  
  
 _Oh, god._  He’d needed the time alone, but fuck if he hadn’t missed this. He lets Jeremy kiss him for a bit until he remembers.  
  
“Jez,” he pants. “Lunch.”  
  
“You really invited me for lunch?” Instead of disappointed, Jeremy sounds amused. “I thought you meant, you know,  **lunch**.”  
  
James blushes, brushes his lips against the skin just above the collar of Jeremy’s t-shirt. “That too, maybe.”  
  
“All right. Wooing. I can do that.”  
  
It isn’t what he had in mind, but James doesn’t correct him just yet.  
  
In the middle of lunch, Jeremy’s hand finds his under the table. James intertwines their fingers, then can’t hold back any longer, saying, “I can’t give you what you had with your family.”  
  
Jeremy sets his fork down, turns in his chair. “What is all that about?”  
  
“I – I don’t know that I can be what you were used to.”  
  
The hand holding his grips tighter. “May, where did you get the idea that I wanted what I was used to? What I was used to didn’t work. Twice.”  
  
“I just – if this isn’t going to work, I’d rather…. I want you to know, now, what you can expect from me.”  
  
Jeremy nods. “Okay. We – do we have to lay our entire lives out on the table today, though?” He laughs. James shifts in his seat, preparing to get up, but Jeremy won’t let go. “No, no, stay. Just wait. I am taking this seriously; believe me. You’ve been in relationships before. You were with Sarah for years. I know it ended up not working out, but you loved her for so long. Is there – do you not think you can do this with me?”  
  
“This is different. I’ve barely been with you, and I’m already this much in lo –.” James isn’t sure why he can’t say it, after he’s already admitted it more than once, but he trails off. “I’m worried about fucking it up.”  
  
“ **You’re**  worried about fucking it up? James, until a few days ago, you weren’t even positive I liked you, I’m such an arse. We’re friends, James. Have been for over a decade. I don’t mean we’re JUST friends, I mean we’ve got that foundation. We know we can fight like dogs and still…you know. Still love each other.  
  
“You wanna know what I want from us?”  
  
“Yes.” James’ free hand lays on Jeremy’s knee, his thumb rubbing at the warm fabric.  
  
“I want us to be there when we’ve got family in hospital; I want someone to talk to me and get me out of my own head when I’m nearly crying because I miss my kids.”  
  
James tilts his head to the side. “We already are that.”  
  
“I know.  **That’s**  how I know this’ll work. It’s not just mates having sex. Because we’re already more than mates, have been for years, you and me and Hammond.”  
  
James frowns. “You don’t want sex with Hammond, do you?”  
  
“No. Eww. Can – can we take this somewhere more comfortable? My arse hurts.”  
  
“Sure.” The ache in his chest eased now that he’s reasonably sure this will be okay, James grabs a couple of beers from the fridge and follows Jeremy into the living room. Jeremy settles at an angle on one end, his feet on the coffee table, and pulls James down next to him, guiding the other man’s head to his chest.  
  
“Comfortable?” Jeremy asks. He’s positioned James so he can’t see his face. James suspects that’s intentional, that he knows James will be more comfortable talking this way.  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“Good. Now, tell me why you’re suddenly so worried this won’t work.”  
  
James concentrates on the heart beating beneath his ear, the hand stroking through his hair, and begins. “Sarah convinced me she should move in together. I was apprehensive about it, but she said, ‘We love each other, we should live together.’ And, I didn’t have an argument for that. When people are in love, they live together.  
  
“And it took awhile, but I think that’s what broke us.  **I**  broke us. I don’t think I can…. How can everyone else manage living with the person they love, but I fuck it up?”  
  
Jeremy buries his face in James’ hair and whispers for him to calm down. “So, I won’t move in, James. I don’t mean I’ll never sleep here; I’ll sleep here as often as you’ll let me. But, if you’re feeling trapped, or like you need your space, tell me. I’ll stay at the flat for as long as you want.”  
  
“You won’t feel like it means I don’t love you anymore?” James’ fist clenches at Jeremy’s shirt as he waits for an answer.  
  
“That’s the beauty of being with a man, James. No irrational emotions. Well, other than yours, of course.” James can feel the rumble under his head when Jeremy laughs. “No, seriously, I know you. I’ve seen the worst of you already, James. And it doesn’t scare me off. It’s part of what I love about you. You’re not like everyone else. But, I know how you deal with things. If I can help by giving you space, I’m happy to do so. And, let’s be honest, you can be a bit much to take after a while. I might be volunteering to sleep at the flat.”  
  
James can’t help but chuckle, even as he rubs his face against Jeremy’s shirt.  
  
“Stop wiping your snot on me, May,” Jeremy chides with a laugh.  
  
“M’not crying.” And he isn’t. Barely. “No one’s ever understood me like that before,” he admits.  
  
“Well, no one else has had to share a tent with you for eight days in the Arctic. You learn a lot about a person that way.” Jeremy curls his arm around James’ shoulder, rests his hand in the center of his chest.  
  
“You wanted to be married again,” he insists.  
  
“I already told you. I got you instead. Fair trade, I say. More than.”  
  
“How – ”  
  
“James, are you trying to make me walk away?”  
  
James lifts his head. There’s an amused glint in Jeremy’s eyes, so he can tell he isn’t being entirely serious, but he answers as if he were. “Of course not, Jez. I only want to make sure you know exactly what you’re getting into.”  
  
Jeremy sighs, drops his head until their foreheads touch. “You act like I’m making all the sacrifices here, Slow. But - I know me. I know what you’re putting up with to be with me. You’re right. Marriage is just a peace of paper. The things I really want – someone to be there for me and grow old with – I already have that with you without the paper. And it doesn’t matter if you’re spending the night at your house and I’m at the flat. If I needed you….”  
  
“I’d come immediately,” James assures. That he’s positive of.  
  
“Exactly. We have all the important things, May. Really, we had all the important things before. Except the most important thing, sex, which we’ve got now. Ow! You pinched me, you bastard.”  
  
“You deserved it.”  
  
“So, are we good now?”  
  
“We’re fantastic.” And he means it.  
  
“So, now we can have sex?”  
  
“Hmm, let me think about it.” James lets out a long-suffering sigh, tries to sound put-upon. “Oh, I guess so.”  
  
“Where haven’t we had sex yet?” Jeremy asks, eyes searching the room.  
  
“My arse?” The words slip out without James expecting them to.  
  
Jeremy snorts. “May! I was thinking more your piano or the kitchen worktop. But I like your thinking.”  
  
James sits up, throws one leg over Jeremy’s. “We’re not having sex on my piano. I’m not Julia Roberts.”  
  
Jeremy’s eyes glaze over for a moment. “Sorry. Was picturing you in a slinky black negligee.”  
  
“Do you feel the need to vomit now?”  
  
Jeremy leans down, nips at the place where James’ shoulder meets his neck. “No,” he growls. “Was a nice image.”  
  
“You are a very weird man.”  
  
“Says the man who won’t run on camera, but will do a ridiculous victory dance.”  
  
“That’s a good dance.”  
  
“It’s really not.” Jeremy’s hands splay themselves over James’ arse. “I still like it, though.”  
  
“You, um, you said something about sex? If I heard correctly?” James teases.  
  
“Yes. Upstairs?”  
  
“Unless you want to do it down here?” James shrugs. “But  **not**  on the piano.”  
  
“Seriously. Spoilsport.” He pauses to think about it, and James can feel him harden beneath him, just from the thought. “Bed. I want to be able to move tomorrow.”  
  
“Old man,” James says, tracing the bit of collarbone jutting out of Jeremy’s shirt.  
  
“Because you’re so much younger,” Jeremy retorts. “And in such better shape.”  
  
“Mmm.  **My**  sexy old man.”  
  
“You really need to get your eyes checked.” Before James can protest, Jeremy smacks him on the arse. “Come on, shift your arse.”  
  
In the bedroom, Jeremy suddenly loses his confidence.  
  
“Jez? I know what I said I wanted, but…. We don’t have to.”  
  
“I’m just afraid. Of hurting you. Of not, not being any good.”  
  
“Jeremy, I realize it’s not exactly the same. But, remember, I saw you with Carol. And I’ve been with you already. There is no doubt in my mind that this will be fantastic.”  
  
“Oi, lower your expectations.”  
  
“Jez.” James steps closer, hooks his arms around Jeremy’s waist. “It’s pretty simple. I promise you. If – if you’re worried about, you know, preparing me…I can do that.”  
  
“No,” Jeremy shakes his head emphatically. “If we’re doing this, then…. That should be my job. At least this time.”  
  
“If you’re sure. I can walk you through it.”  
  
“Don’t – don’t let me hurt you.”  
  
James takes Jeremy’s chin between two fingers, makes sure the other man is paying attention when he says, “Never. I trust you.”  
  
“All right. Let me – I know this is stupid, you’ve done this before, and we’ve – we’ve done nearly everything else before. But, I want this to be, I don’t know, special.”  
  
“You do know I’m not a girl?” James teases.  
  
“I know. It’s not – I don’t mean it like that. It’s only…when you remember the first time we did this, I want it to be a good memory.”  
  
“Jeremy Clarkson, you’re a big softie.”  
  
Jeremy snorts, presses his nose against James’ check and kisses his chin. “Don’t let it get out.”  
  
“I think it’s too late for that. You cried at the end of the 24-hour race because you were in love with a car.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Jeremy grumbles into his neck.  
  
“That’s what we’re getting to.”  
  
Jeremy doesn’t even acknowledge his joke, saying in a low voice that makes James’ knees weak, “Let me undress you.”  
  
“I have no objections to that plan.”  
  
Jeremy’s hands slide under his shirt, graze along his waistband. James lifts his arms over his head, and Jeremy slides the shirt up. James’ head gets caught in the neck hole, and he starts laughing. Then, he can feel the weight of the shirt hanging from his head as Jeremy lets go of it, and before he’s had a chance to think about what’s going on, fingers are teasing at his belly and under his arms, tickling him.  
  
“Jez!” he cries, stumbling backwards to get away from the onslaught.  
  
Jeremy grabs him at the waist to prevent him from falling, and pulls him against him. James can feel the silent laughter bubbling up from his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you kill yourself, James.” He finishes pulling the shirt over James’ head.  
  
“You going to grow this back out?” Jeremy asks, flattening his hair from where the static electricity has made it stand up.  
  
“Should I?”  
  
Jeremy nods quickly. “I like it longer.”  
  
“I’ll think about it,” he demures.  
  
Jeremy yanks at a bit of chest hair.  
  
“Clarkson!”  
  
Jeremy grins.  
  
“You realize I could do exactly the same to you in retaliation?”  
  
“You could,” Jeremy smirks, “But you won’t, because that’d be childish.”  
  
“No, I won’t, because I’d like to get to the damn sex sometime today,” he retorts.  
  
“Patience, Captain Slow.” He hooks his fingers in James’ belt loops and tugs him closer. Then there’s the sound of a zip being lowered and a button being undone. He shoves down James’ jeans, where they hover around his knees, then slips one hand inside the slit of his boxers.  
  
“Jez,” he groans when that hand closes around his cock.  
  
“How do you want to do this?” Jeremy asks.  
  
“Up to you,” James pants as the other man strokes his penis to full hardness.  
  
“Not this time,” he insists.  
  
“I’d like, if we can, to be able to see you.”  
  
“Under me?” Jeremy asks, removing his hand and pushing James’ boxers to join his jeans. “Or, or do you want to, you know,  **drive**?”  
  
“I thought you said I couldn’t drive,” James says, stepping out of the rest of his clothes.  
  
“I don’t think I’ll have an issue with you controlling this ride.”  
  
“I want you on me, Jez. I – I’ve thought about it. That night, when you’d been drinking….”  
  
“Did you wank after you’d gone to bed?” He returns his hand to James’ cock, strokes it slowly.  
  
“Mm-hmm.” James can’t wait; he starts in on Jeremy’s shirt buttons as the other man talks.  
  
“So did I.”  
  
“In my guest bed, Clarkson?”  
  
“Couldn’t help it.”  
  
James can’t help it, either. He has to kiss this man. As he invades Jeremy’s mouth, he sets about ridding the other man of his jeans and pants.  
  
“Come on, Jezza,” he mutters as he finishes undressing him. “Want you so badly.”  
  
“Can I – I want to do this slowly. We haven’t really…. You got to touch me, that night, but I haven’t….”  
  
Those gorgeous hands, that beautiful mouth all over him? “Yes. Please.” To show his enthusiasm, James wastes no more time, lying down in the center of the bed and beckoning Jeremy to him.  
  
“Roll over?” Jeremy asks. “I – your shoulders, James. Your arse.”  
  
With of quirk of his eyebrow and a smirk, James rolls onto his stomach. He can feel Jeremy’s cock, hot and hard and heavy, as it lies between his buttocks as the other man straddles him.  
  
“Fuuuck,” James groans as big, strong hands grip his shoulders.  
  
“So gorgeous,” Jeremy murmurs, pressing his hot face between James’ shoulder blades. “Every time you wear a t-shirt, James. It’s all I can do not to bury my face…right here.”  
  
“Mmm. Should have. We’d have ended up here a lot earlier.” He regrets the words as soon as he says them, remembering Jeremy’s marriage, but the other man just chuckles and agrees.  
  
Jeremy follows the line of his spine, kissing and nibbling and murmuring words of endearment that make James’ face flush and his heart swell.  
  
Then, there’s a rough wetness at the top of his arse crack, and James rises up on his knees.  
  
“Okay?” Jeremy asks, uncertainty apparent in his voice.  
  
“Fuck, yes,” he gasps, already incredibly turned on. “Is that something you learnt from your ‘research’?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You – you don’t have to, Jeremy. I mean, I’m certainly not going to stop you. But, it’s not for everybody. If you try it, and decide – I won’t be offended.”  
  
Jeremy bites at his arse, and James can’t help but moan, his cock leaking on the bedspread. “Fuck,” he whines.  
  
“Your arse, James. It’s fucking perfect.” He bites again, and again, sucking the skin between his teeth, and James knows there’ll be marks tomorrow. The thought excites him.  
  
“You’re mine, James.” Jeremy’s voice is deep and rough and on the verge of breaking. James has never heard it sound this way.  
  
“Yes. Fuck, yes.”  
  
Then James can feel his buttocks being spread apart. “Uh,” he gasps. “Please.”  
  
Jeremy dips down, swipes the flat of his tongue against his hole.  
  
“Oh, oh jesus. Jez,” he cries.  
  
This time, Jeremy’s tongue starts lower, licking at his balls, then a long swipe all the way to the small of his back.  
  
“Fuck, Jez, stop. Gonna come.”  
  
Jeremy does stop, asking, “If I make you come from this, can I still fuck you?”  
  
“Yes. Fuck, yes.”  
  
“Is – is that okay? If I do that?”  
  
“Jeremy,” he whines, “oh, god, yes. If – if you want. Please.”  
  
Jeremy licks at his testicle again, then takes a bit of skin into his mouth and sucks gently.  
  
“Fuck.” It feels so good, James is certain he’s going to pass out. Then Jeremy encloses his mouth around the entire thing, and James realizes he had no idea what it means to feel good. “Jesus!” he cries, clutching at the bedspread with shaking fingers.  
  
He can feel Jeremy hum his amusement, and the sensation causes him to press his face against the pillow. “Mmm,” he whimpers.  
  
Then that glorious sensation is gone. He has only a second to feel bereft, before that tongue is lapping at his hole again. “Oh fuck.” He wants to shout at Jeremy to slip it inside him, but he doesn’t want to push the other man to do anything he’s unsure about.  
  
Eventually, Jeremy gets there on his own, as the tip of his tongue breaches the ring of muscle. James is just panting now, moaning, pulling at his hair and at the covers, unable to form any words it feels so good.  
  
The hot, wiggling wetness works its way inside farther, teasing, touching, and then suddenly, James is coming hard, harder than he can remember, without anything having touched his cock.  
  
His orgasm is long, intense, wave after wave of pleasure, leaving him gasping against the covers, Jeremy pressed against his side.  
  
Once he can finally breathe, he turns his head, leans into Jeremy and kisses him without hesitation.  
  
“I can…mouthwash,” Jeremy offers between kisses.  
  
“Ngh,” James disagrees. Still trembling, Clarkson is his anchor, giving him something solid, unmoving, to hold onto.  
  
“Love you, love you,” he whispers, planting kiss after kiss on the other man’s face.  
  
“So, I did good?” Jeremy asks.  
  
“That was fucking incredible. You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
“Wanted to,” he insists. “It – watching that made me hotter than almost any other porn I watched, James. Imagining it, me doing that to you…. Fuck, James. And the reality? Was hotter than any video.”  
  
“Jeremy,” he says, “Fuck me.”  
  
Jeremy blinks several times, almost as if he’d forgotten their plans. Then, with a speed that belies his size, he twists so he can reach into the bedside cabinet. While he’s occupied, James lies on his back and shoves two pillows under his hips and another under his head.  
  
“Okay,” Jeremy begins, the bottle of lubricant in his hand. “How do I do this?”  
  
James chuckles. “Slick up your fingers, work them in there, and then do the same with your cock. It’s not rocket science, Jez. And, believe me, I am really fucking relaxed already, so this’ll be a doddle.”  
  
Jeremy opens the bottle and messily covers his fingers. James holds back a laugh and just nods when he holds his fingers out for inspection.  
  
It’s more than enough, but better too much than not enough. It’ll make this go easier, and next time Jeremy will be more confident.  
  
“All right. The first finger’s going to be easy.”  
  
And it is. There’s barely any resistance before Jeremy’s finger slips inside him.  
  
“Your tongue did the hard work,” James explains.  
  
“Well, that’s how I operate,” Jeremy agrees.  
  
James covers his eyes with his arm to keep from looking at the other man’s earnest face and laughing. “All right,” he says, after a moment.  
  
“But, what about, you know, that place?”  
  
“My prostate? Don’t worry about that until the second finger. Hell, I’m relaxed and have already come, so you can forget about it until your cock’s inside me. I really won’t mind.”  
  
“Jaaames. Teach me.”  
  
James rolls his eyes, but remembers that, god willing, he’ll be the only one who ever benefits from what he teaches Jeremy. It’s really in his own best interest to do a good job.  
  
“One more finger and I’ll show you.”  
  
The second finger goes a little slower than the first, but Jeremy is patient and eventually James’ body remembers that it likes this and lets it in.  
  
“Your fingers, Jez.”  
  
“What about them?” Jeremy asks, genuinely curious.  
  
“They’re so thick,” he groans happily.  
  
Jeremy flushes and snorts a laugh against James’ knee. “Tell me what to do.”  
  
“Crook your fingers toward you a b-ahhh. Yes, yes, that’s it.”  
  
With a wide grin on his face, Jeremy rubs the pad of his finger against that spot. There’s stirring in James’ cock, although he’s fairly certain he’s not going to get another erection out of this, not this soon, and he can’t help but press his feet hard against the mattress.  
  
“Fuck, Jez.”  
  
“God, James, you…. Watching you like this. It’s so gorgeous. You’re all red and sweaty and panting and out of control.”  
  
“Jeremy. Want you in me. Come on.”  
  
“Can I – another finger?”  
  
“Yes, yes, please.”  
  
James closes his eyes as Jeremy tries to get the third finger inside, all the time panting, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine. Keep going.”  
  
“You okay?” Jeremy asks once he’s got three fingers deep inside him.  
  
James opens his eyes and smiles down at the nervous face he adores. “Yeah. Just been a long time.” After a few moments of Jeremy’s fingers thrusting inside him, he pleads, “Your cock, Jeremy. Please.”  
  
Jeremy had forgotten to unwrap the condom earlier, and now his fingers are too slippery, so James does it for him, then slides it on. Jeremy fists his cock, spreading lube over it, and moves closer.  
  
“This gets uncomfortable and you want to do it another way, tell me,” Jeremy insists.  
  
“Same goes for you and your dicky hip.”  
  
Jeremy presses his face against the inside of James’ knee and takes a moment. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright. “I love you so much,” he whispers.  
  
James holds out his hand and takes Jeremy’s. “Not as much as I love you. Now, you soppy git, fuck me.”  
  
The smile that spreads over Jeremy’s face is possibly the most beautiful thing James has ever seen, outside of a Botswanian sunset.  
  
There’s an awkward moment when Jeremy has difficulty figuring out how to align himself while propping himself up, but James waits patiently until he can feel the head of his cock begin to breach his body.  
  
He urges his body to relax, reminds Jeremy to go slow, and there’s just a tiny spike of pain as it slips inside. Jeremy pauses without him needing to ask, and James lets himself get used to the sensation of being filled again.  
  
After a moment, he lifts his knees, pressing them against Jeremy’s sides, and Jeremy slides further inside.  
  
“Sorry,” he gasps. “I couldn’t – ”  
  
“It’s okay,” James interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I did that. I was ready.”  
  
“Can I -?”  
  
“You can do whatever you want, now. But, I’d like it if you came here?” James holds out his arms and Jeremy moves forward, elbows on the bed next to James’ shoulders, putting them chest to chest and belly to belly…more or less.  
  
“I bet this’d work better if one of us lost some weight,” Jeremy muses.  
  
“You can start the diet tomorrow,” James teases. “Kiss me.”  
  
It’s immediately apparent that James has a new favorite thing: Jeremy Clarkson’s cock inside him while he’s being kissed passionately. He’s pretty sure that, to beat this feeling, Jeremy would have to grow more appendages.  
  
Jeremy begins to move his hips: slow, smooth movements that brush James’ prostate on every stroke.  
  
“God, James,” Jeremy says, awestruck. “This feels so incredible.”  
  
“I told you,” James answers, twisting his finger around a lock of Jeremy’s hair as his other hand grips his shoulder. “No matter which way you do this, it’s bloody amazing.”  
  
“Is this good for you? Even though you’re not, you know, hard?”  
  
James can merely nod, as Jeremy has suddenly changed the angle of his hips, and all of his brain cells are distracted at the moment.  
  
James remembers something Jeremy had done, and – with the only warning being the devious smile that crosses his face – clenches his internal muscles.  
  
“Fuck! That’s – fuck, James. Do that again.”  
  
James does, and Jeremy’s head drops as he shivers.  
  
“I’m not going to last long, James,” he murmurs.  
  
“S’okay.” He grabs Jeremy’s arse in both hands and squeezes, pulling him closer as his thighs tighten their grip on his sides. “Harder, Jez.”  
  
“Don’t – don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
“You won’t. Promise.”  
  
Jeremy pulls nearly all the way out, until just the very tip of his cock touches the quivering ring of muscle, then slams back in.  
  
“Ahh!” James cries. “Please.” His fingernails dig into Jeremy’s arse as he tries to bury the other man inside him again.  
  
Jeremy repeats the move, over and over again, moving to kneel in front of James, pulling one of James’ knees to his chest.  
  
“Al-almost there. Fuck.”  
  
James can barely reach him, but he stretches, pinches his nipple, then again with his fingernails.  
  
“Ah. Again.”  
  
James does, watches Jeremy’s eyes fall shut. “Come on, come on, Jez.”  
  
Three more thrusts, then Jeremy comes, letting out James’ name in a hoarse shout. His head falls forward in exhaustion, his body shaking.  
  
“Jeremy,” James calls. “Come here.”  
  
Carefully, Jeremy grasps the condom and pulls out, then tosses it into the bin on the nightstand.  
  
With a groan, he collapses next to James, face buried in the other man’s chest. “Jaaames. I’m dead. Dead by sex.”  
  
“See,” James says, huffing a laugh. “Told you it’d be good.”  
  
“I never doubted it,” Jeremy murmurs.  
  
James smiles, whispers, “Of course you didn’t, Jez.”


End file.
